It's funny how, as we age, birthdays begin to take on different meanings. As a child, I can remember looking forward to my big day all year with breathless anticipation. I couldn't wait for the day of my birthday party. Looking back on it, my parties were never expensive or outlandish, but those Sunday afternoons full of crepe paper streamers and balloons at my mom's house were some of the best days of my life.
My children are under the impression that I'm 26. I don't know where they might have gotten such an idea, but I'm not about to correct them, and you'd better not either, if you know what's good for you! The other day Savannah told me that she thought she wanted to write a "blob" about her own kids someday. Then she stopped and said, "But I'm not sure I want to have my own kids." "That's okay," I replied. "I was 29 before I knew for sure that I wanted to have my own kids!" She looked a little confused, then said, "But mom, you're only 26 now. You couldn't have had us when you were 29!" Right, right. I almost forgot! Silly me.
Sharlee asked my yesterday if EVERYBODY got fat when they turned 35. I said, "No, everybody doesn't. Why?" "Well, I heard on the radio that people in their forties needed to lose weight!"
On a really sad note, today I had the unenviable task of euthanizing my friend Beth's dog, Fred. He was hit by a car about a week ago and his back was fractured. Despite the care of three vets and daily laser treatments, he still couldn't get up.
Those of you who have been readers for awhile will remember that Beth was my dear, dear friend who lost her fight with breast cancer last September. Her Corgi, Fred the Fairy Dog, actually made it into her eulogy as a survivor. She loved that dog, and all I could think as I knelt beside him today and stroked his head to let him know that he was loved and he was not alone, was that I know she is there waiting for him. I know two friends who will be happy, happy, happy to see each other!
When people are sick, their friends often ask what they can "do for" them. I was completely humbled and pleased when Beth asked me to come over and give her a shot she was too afraid to give to herself. As hard as it was for me, taking care of Fred in his final moments was something else I could do for her, and as such, I consider it an honor. You sure were a good boy, Fred. Give your mom a kiss for me.
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