We all have them until we die.
We complain about having them until we die.
We celebrate them until we die.
Why do we worry over birthdays?
I think it's because we don't know how many are left in the birthday vault of the birthday bank. Especially the ones with a big zero at the end. Ouch!
So far my birthday week has been a hoot, lunch at the Grill with the girls, lunch with husband at a fine restaurant, roses, and looking forward to tomorrow's lunch with the kids, not to mention some wonderful telephone calls. How did the tele-marketers know it was my birthday?
I decided a week full of special lunches is a lot for the waistline to handle so I set up a yoga exercise class for the main munchers. Yes I did fall off the porch, but it did not affect my pose. No I was not tipsy, but when I got up and brushed myself off, I wished I was. But it only hurts when I sit down, which will complicate tomorrow's birthday lunch. Who invented birthdays anyway?
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