44.

Not a presidential reference, but a corporeal one.

I turned 44 on Wednesday. Not a big round birthday, but there's some agreeable symmetry to 44. It seems even and orderly event, until you think that it's a multiple of 11...and well, doesn't that somehow open the number - and the subsequent year - up to some lovely irregularity?

(Here's hoping.)

My actual birthday was sandwiched between production meetings and singer meetings and a dress rehearsal for our first Barns show, a little Rossini sparkler that he wrote when he was 20.

20.

(Y'all, I have got to get crackin' if I want to have something interesting to show for this lovely life I'm living!)

Anyway, it was a lovely, overfull day when the email was set momentarily aside for hugs and well-wishes. There were so many delicious things about the day - confections, hugs, visits from old friends and conversations with new ones. Rossini, Puccini, Billy Joel, and me singing Martin Sexton with the top down on the way home, well after midnight.

It was, for all intents and purposes, a banner day.


Today I had a blessed day out of the office. And, while I had HUGE plans, not everything got done...although the important ones (writing, exercise, doodling, cleaning) were accomplished.

Got up on the early side, especially considering the late evening I had. Walked the dogs, and did my birthday burpees a day late (but I did all of them, the hateful things that they are). Walked some errands. Vacuumed up a fraction of the dog hair that, at this point, is holding my house together. Got a mani-pedi. Took a nap. Had a crazy-good steak dinner with the hubs. And got more sweetness from friends today.

It's almost dark. Will take the boys for a promenade around the neighborhood, and am looking forward to mediating on just how grateful I am to have such wonderful people in my life.

Frankly, if this is what 44 looks like, y'all should be clamoring to meet me here...it's lovely so far.




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