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May 24, 2008

There is an age after which birthdays should cease to matter as occasions for anticipation and celebration.

That age is twelve.

Sure, there are noteworthy exceptions — landmarks, if you will. 16, 18, 21, 40 (maybe), 65 (or whatever retirement age is these days) and 100.

I suppose that in my case, attaining 46 was perhaps the littlest teeniest tiniest bit in doubt a year ago. Well, I made it. I think I'll celebrate by having a steak, or maybe pizza... if I can squeeze in a break from work. It's just another work day (second shift) for me, though it is also another a chance to again thank Mom for everything.

I'll skip the cake and ice cream, though.

Posted by Russ at 10:00 AM, May 24, 2008 in Miscellany

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! I love you Russ!! Wish I could be there to make you a nice dinner and bake a chocolate-cherry cake for you. Faith and I would bring it to you with a big "46" candle on top and sing the Happy Birthday song to you with great exuberance. Hugs and kisses!!

Posted by: Cara at May 24, 2008 12:12 PM

Happy birthday!

Posted by: Ith at May 24, 2008 04:47 PM

Happy Birthday indeed, Comrade. The Workers of the world unite in singing Happy Birthday to You.

They actually did this earlier this morning, though, so you were probably asleep and missed it. Ask anyone else, though!


Posted by: John at May 25, 2008 12:46 AM

Wrong! Birthdays matter! Every year! In fact, my birthday is August 6. And I expect much celebration. Cash and gifts and other tokens of affection. Balloons optional. I promise to continue to annoy people with my attitude of entitlement for as long as I live.

Make a note, people. August 6.

Posted by: Cara at May 27, 2008 06:33 PM

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