Birthdays

It's the son's birthday. Again this year. I don't do birthdays well. I don't like them. Everyone could stay the same age, year after year, and that would be fine by me. Years ago, I once again opened my big mouth and said in a fit of pique, upon feeling the burden again of having to outplan the previous birthday party again and again every year, "It makes me wish everyone had never been born."

It's tragic that I have such distaste--that it's a burden and I don't like thinking about change and everyone getting older and change and older and P.U. I just know that the never been born comment is something everyone will remember for ever. Yuck!

The first son is turning 16 and this is the banner year. The most important birthday in a young man's life, as was last year. I know driving is important... to most teens, but this one is ambiguous about that and at this rate of enthusiasm, he'll drive in the early turn of next century. We too are not real excited about adding 1600.00 annually onto the insurance bill. YAY!

His gifts were odd, things that Dad wanted for him... I might guess that they are things that Dave might want for himself if he again were 16. Headlamps, backpacks, and new hiking sandals. Ian seemed thrilled. He's such a great put-on artist.

I seem to remember that Ian's birthday is most always spent on the road. His birthdate is near or on the time when we traverse the country... so he's shorted a little... okay a lot. We yawn and holler happy birthday as we drive through Wyoming, and that's about the sum total of it.

I'll bake a cake at midnight and drag it out on the road tomorrow. Maybe that will make up for the underwear I got him.

Me,