Today is.... in These titles mean nothing.

I had planned to write here last night - something like On the Eve of my 68th Birthday - but I didn't.

Why I feel the need or desire for that matter to write about my birthday this year is a mystery.

Out of 68 birthdays I can only remember a handful.

My tenth when my mother had birthday party for me, inviting the neighbor kids with a picnic on the lawn. The inspiration might have been a long wooden table that my dad had bought at an auction. It was more like a twelve foot long tool bench than a picnic table. It was painted gray. Knowing my mother it was no doubt covered with table clothes for my party. I remember the party because my mother took some pictures. The peonies were in bloom. My aunt kept cutting carrot sticks, because they were in demand. I got presents including two wallets - one red and one blue. My dad joked acidly that I didn't have anything to put in them. I suppose I had to write thank you notes.

My 45th birthday was the day the motorcycle was stolen. Husband John was away overnight - a rare thing after we moved back from Palo - at a work related meeting. Son John was home from college and was working at the Food Ranch. When I came home from work there was a nice bicycle in the driveway. Later we discovered son John's Yamaha XT350 was gone. I called the sheriff's office and a town cop came out to interview us. It turned out the bicycle had been reported stolen from the town pool and that it belonged to the school superintendent's son. The cop felt pretty good about recovering it. He had already told the school superintendent, who had told the cop to keep the bike overnight so the kid would learn a lesson about leaving his bike unlocked. The cop didn't put as much energy into finding the motorcycle - though to be fair I guess no one called the sheriff's office reporting it in their driveway. Eventually we got it back. It's a long story. I can tell you if you want me to.

My 60th birthday coincided with the Dairy Days parade. The Dairy Days parade's location rotates among the towns in the county and it was in Lansing that year. I went to march with the Democrats. It was a lovely summer night and we had a good time. TickTockTick took a nice picture of me with her husband. I might have it buried somewhere in photobucket. The bunch of us ate afterwards at Uncle Milty's. When I got home there was a brief chat with the man who was engaging my interest on line. I hadn't expected it, and it made the day/night memorable. (God I'm a slut. A secret one, the worst kind. Well maybe not the worst kind but still....)

I find it odd that out of 68 days, I only remember the specifics of three. That's 4.4%. I had to do long division to figure that out and I'm proud I remember how. If I'm wrong please don't tell me. Flatter an old lady's pretensions. (I needed google to figure out how to spell 'pretensions'.)

Now it's almost time to leave for work. I need to eat something since I want to give blood after work. I had planned on oatmeal but I think I've used up my time. Besides I think I'd have to wash the pan.

Guess I'll take cheese with me for lunch and call it and a couple apples a meal. They always ask if you've eaten when you give blood. They ask a lot of questions when you give blood. I wonder if there will be any new ones this time. Blood giving is a ritual. Maybe even a sacrament. I need to think some more about that. And maybe there are other modern day sacraments too.

Your homework for today's entry is to answer either of the two following questions:

1. How many of you birthdays can you specifically remember?

2. What's a modern day sacrament?

#

Note: as a study aid, here is the google definition of a sacrament:

*a religious ceremony or act of the Christian Church that is regarded as an outward and visible sign of inward and spiritual divine grace, in particular.

(in the Roman Catholic and many Orthodox Churches) the rites of baptism, confirmation, the Eucharist, penance, anointing of the sick, ordination, and matrimony.
(among Protestants) baptism and the Eucharist.*