James gave me 21 punches in the arm and I have bruises, because he was having so much fun wishing my happy birthday.
It’s kinda scary, you know, forgetting your own birthday.
But it didn’t matter.
I sat it a hunting camp on a white deck chair and stuffed my face with goose, duck soup, and bannock, washing it down with a blue bowel of carnation milked tea, feeling entirely euphoric. You couldn’t have made interesting conversation with me if you would have tried.
I was in a different world.
Then I get in late and smoky for bible study and suddenly Miriam arrives with a cake Victoria made and they sing and I blush all over.
So 21 finds me, blowing out a lighter that Derek digs out of his pocket in place of candles and laughing hard.
Yesterday I joined the kids and biked around potholes and back muddy trails until everything hurt and then plucked, singed, and gutted ducks for relaxation.
I wish writing would come easier these days, but mostly I attempt a post and nothing comes.
I’ve decided to be content with just living for a while.
Content to watch the ice melt and the moose run down the road and laugh at everyone, including myself, without trying to write it all down before I forget.
Life is so much bigger than my computer screen right now.
One more thing, though.
Supposedly, I heard, it was considered kind of lame to respond to comments since it is like a cheap way to may your comment numbers increase. So I rarely wrote replies.
I’ve decided that is a lame notion.
Mostly because I’ve been frustrated when people who I don’t know comment and I can’t really communicate with them. I mean I can track down their email, which I have, but I don’t have time to do that for everyone.
So I’ve decided, lameness or not, I’m going to communicate with readers through the comment section. So if you comment, come back and check for a response, because I’ll probably have something to say.
*Yes,the post I posted last week is gone. It will be reposted at a later date, when the time is right*