Made it ’round the sun for the seventy-eighth time. Donna and I (we’re the same age again, at least until May, when she’ll pull ahead once more) are still telling anyone who asks we’re in our seventies, intentionally omitting the “late” prefix.
Annual wellness check with my doctor yesterday. Heart & blood pressure great and all the lab results are good. Better than good in fact — finally I’m able to stop taking one medication altogether and cut the dosage of another in half. The number of pills I have to take every morning and evening troubles me, so even a small reduction feels like a major accomplishment. All thanks to Ozempic, which in addition to helping me lose weight has done wonders for cholesterol and blood sugar levels. So it looks like I’ll be around a while yet. Donna, too, thank heavens.
Not exactly a jumping-up-and-down birthday, this late in the game, but we ate out last night (camarones rellenos at Mariscos Chihuahua, a local favorite). Why not tonight, on my actual birthday? Because we want to be home for the trick-or-treaters. Our daughter Polly plans to make herb-encrusted lamb chops while we mind the candy jar, and Donna made French toast for me this morning (I’ll be skipping lunch). Our son sent gifts, which I have yet to unwrap (thanks in advance, Gregory!), and a host of friends and relatives have sent best wishes by mail, email, and on social media. I send thanks to each and every one, so it’s been a busy morning.
I confess, by way of celebrating yesterday’s good checkup, to pinching a two-pack of Reese’s peanut butter cups from the Halloween candy jar. Also, too, I’m finally wearing the birthday watch, a present to myself, ordered a month in advance to allow time for overseas shipping but which arrived much earlier than expected, meaning it’s been languishing in my display case for weeks, frustratingly not ticking away on my wrist. Well the big day has finally come and I’m a-wearin’ it.
So, some photos. No captions necessary, I think, except to apologize for not taking a photo of the bacon-wrapped and cheese-stuffed camarones before I’d taken a bite. Oh, and the last one: Mister B licking my plate this morning as Lulu & Fritzi looked on (they’re almost as indulgent of him as we are, ’cause in dog years he’s practically Joe Biden).
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Now to enjoy the rest of the day, which means not thinking about the election. Stay fresh, cheese bags!