You may have heard some things, been distracted by the buzz and peppered by the steady hum of rumor and innuendo, regarding me and my life that I think finally need to be addressed — and addressed, as I always intend, with forthrightness and candor. So. Here we go:
Today IS my birthday, the day on which I enter my sixth decade and become, not incidentally, older than the Der Weinerschnitzel fast food franchise, a fact for which I thank my younger brother, who turned 50 on Oct. 30. And all I really want for my birthday, besides peace and health for those I love, is the successful passage of the Moscow School District’s supplemental levy.
Oh, and the new Wilco album.
But, whether I get my wish or not, I’m glad to turn 51 living and walking in the love of Christ, living in my dream house (a delightful cottage on three forested acres that have been in my husband’s family for 115 years) and walking with only a bit of a limp, which Jeff says gives me character. I have the two best sons in the world, a supportive and loving ring of friends and family who I delight in, and an annoying, yappy, irrepressibly cheerful little dog. I’m surrounded by books (and not in a “hoarding” way!), Sister’s Brew still makes a delicious four-shot, 20 oz. Americano, and my keyboard still comes to life whenever I feel the Spirit leading me to write. And I have yet to hear a Justin Bieber song, for which I’m unutterably grateful.
Thanks to all of those in my life who’ve sent cards, called, emailed, Facebook’d, stopped by and taken me out to celebrate, and who I know are glad, in ways that most of the CREC aren’t, that I was born and then wandered into their lives. I’m glad for them, too, and as Thanksgiving approaches, my gratitude is ever-spreading as I survey the wonder of being an entire year older than a franchise whose fortune comes from serving limp, flesh-colored tubes of extruded meat in enriched-to-virginal buns, via both drive-through and garishly yellow-themed plastic interiors. With twisty straws.
Even if Moscow’s fabulous Nectar restaurant serves an all-weenie menu tonight, I’m nonetheless one woman, greatly blessed.