Last year I turned 50. The big 5-0. A big milestone, to be celebrated with much ado. Unfortunately, I was still undergoing chemotherapy last year. I was exhausted, had sores in my mouth and throat, and couldn't taste anything. So my birthday came and went with minimal fuss. I wasn't happy about it, but what could I do?
This year, I feel much, much better.
|No reason for the picture, I just like it.|
But this was my fiftieth. Nobody else might care, but I did. So I decided to do something.
I'm celebrating my fiftieth. A belated birthday, to be sure, but I'm doing it. I called up a local restaurant, reserved the patio, and sent out an open invitation on the Book of Face. I ordered a cake from a local bakery. This afternoon, I will show up for my party. I'm going to celebrate surviving another year, celebrate being healthy, celebrate being alive. If anyone else other than my family shows up, I will be happy about it. If it's just us, that's okay, too.
More cake for me.