It was a fine birthday. No, truly fine. Best birthday in years, actually. Kids made me poster-sized cards. We celebrated the "Fifth Day of Wine", culminating in the best bottle yet (though not yet drunk.) I went on a run, and then got ready for work. Keaton cried out, "-but if you go to work, you'll miss your birthday!" Which is exactly what I was thinking, and then I realized I was still a child. So then I wrote some, and then I went to work, though only half-ly.

I did what I could. I didn't have a choice. I've actually been working on something that has been a satisfying challenge, and that small fact can resolve some pain. It looks like this:

And if it does not impress, I am not offended. But it is something. What did you build today?

On the way home I stopped at Best Buy and got a new gadget. Nothing fancy, but a little something that made me happy. Was greeted at the door by my mother-in-law, who gave me some money for beer. Imagine that! And then I put on some new pants, some new shoes, and went downtown for a swanky dinner with my best friend.

That would be my wife, who has it in her heart to make me happy, which must be the hardest job in the world sometimes. And yet only she can pull it off so consistently.

The restaurant was called the "Flying Pig", and was on a side street on downtown Oceanside. Art on the walls, menus made from old vinyl LPs, a fine selection of microbrews, and a clientele that felt they were the hippest in North County, how could I not feel the same? In any case, the food was great.

So I am 43. Doesn't feel particularly old, though my back's been sore of late. I honestly don't feel a year older, any more than I feel a day older. But one thing remains: I've still got living to do.

Lincoln was born. So there goes another year away from writing anything down. If someone had honestly explained to me how hard it would be to have three kids over two, I would have demurred at the challenge. I had no idea. It happens in life: You make a decision. You think you're awesome. You have no idea.

And you own it.

Which is utterly fine with me, because I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world.

~