Yes, I am another year older today. So is my little baby girl, Rebecca, who was born on my 30th birthday - the best birthday present I ever received. Her smiling face is an unbelievably rewarding thing to come home to each and every day. She smiles more than anyone I know. She still perceives the mystery of life, and, like the newborn beholds the face of God daily.
Fridays are great for me as it is. I have a very busy week up to that point, and then sit in my office catching up on things, at a relaxed pace.
It used to be my tradition to treat myself to one of those expensive coffee shop cappuccinos once a year on my birthday (seems the right pace for a $6 cup of coffee), but I don't seem to be interested in that any more. Sure, I still like expensive coffee, but I guess I just want to spend the time, not away from, but with my family. It's a small thing, but symbolic. I take less pleasure in the per se isolated.
Nevertheless, a depresso like me needs to make sure he makes room for little pleasures. So, I ask, what should I do today? Work needs to be done, of course. I am spending some time making up the midterm for Thomistic Thought on Tuesday.
I was going to go out for lunch with Anne-Marie (and Stephen), but got a call from the school that Isaiah's asthma is acting up, so that nixed that. That's okay - we'll take a rain check.
A beer or two at home surrounded my family - that sounds just about right to me. Is it a sign of maturity that I am no longer looking outside my home for pleasures? I don't know. I hope it is. At 36 it's about time, I'd say. I let Rebecca pick the cake. Soon I'll be 100% saint.