“So, what are you doing tomorrow for your birthday?” is a question that I’ve gotten asked multiple times today. My friends at work asked me that curiously. Daughter called, offering to take me out to lunch. My mom sent me money for lunch because we wouldn’t be able to go out. SwampMan has asked me to pick out my favorite spot to eat and he wouldn’t even complain about it. It is almost as if my life revolves around food, isn’t it? I wonder why everybody asks me that? Oh, yeah. Probably because the likelihood of us gettin’ throwed in jail is way lower than asking me if I’d like to try something violent and illegal.
Well, I suppose I could wear my birthday suit and kick and scream all day to commemorate my day of coming into the world in a proper nostalgic fashion, but I’d probably get bored with that within, oh, I dunno, eight hours or so.
I hate to disappoint all the folk who evidently expect me to “go out” and “have a good time”, but there’s no more hay, the ewes are bellowing in hunger, and I’ve gotta do something this weekend to try to ameliorate their hunger. Oh, don’t worry, they’re not starving. They have plenty of grain, just no roughage, so they think they’re starving. I’ll probably be out in the woods with a machete chopping any (nonpoisonous) greenery I can find, cursing all the while because, if I had had more time, I’d have had a way better strategy for overwintering lots of livestock without hay than hoping that the warm weather holds. Hope ain’t a strategy. People that depend on hope usually end up bitten in the ass by reality, and I’m no exception.
Update: Heh. Here’s my birthday cake from KC!