Time flies

When I was growing up, I hated having a summer birthday. I always felt cheated because I didn't get to have the cupcakes and party at school thing. I liked being in school and missed it during the summer. So, for as long as I can remember, for me summer has ended right after my birthday. Sorry everyone, tomorrow is the end of summer!


That's me on my first birthday, 62 years ago.

I used to get anxious around my birthday, worried no one would remember.  When I turned 6, we were on a ship on our way to Japan. And wouldn't you know, we crossed the International Dateline just as my birthday arrived so I lost my birthday. I worried that meant I would be 5 forever despite the none too convincing arguments of my brother.My parents actually did forget my birthday the year I turned 11 -- we were in the midst of moving to Germany and they were off visiting friends and they forgot. After a while it became something I could hold over my mother's head.

I am happy to report that my birthday no longer brings me any worries. Today I have gotten lots of nice cards, greetings on Facebook, a call from my daughter and from my best friend. Google gave me my invitation to Google Voice and Apple got my replacement power cord to me 4 days sooner than expected. My husband is preparing us a lovely meal. He gave me a lamp I have wanted -- as I get older stuff is a lot less important to me so a reading lamp to put next to my side of the bed is just the thing for me.

I don't feel 63. But then again I don't know how 63 is supposed to feel. Inside I feel a lot more like 45 maybe. Yet I am also very much aware of the dwindling time ahead of me. There is a an urgency about doing some things I have thought about that wasn't there before. 

Of course that urgency has not spread to my knitting so I am puttering along on the same projects that I showed you before. 

My hollyhocks decided to open for my birthday -- I so love this luscious deep color.


The cats mark all of this in their usual way --


Yeah, that's some of my Colourmart stash behind the chair.

© Cheryl Fuller, 2007. All  rights reserved.