Life

Well, yesterday was a significant date because Sir Thomas More turned 530, Charles Dickens turned 196, Laura Ingalls Wilder turned 141, Ronald Reagan would have been 97...and I became 26 years of age. Yes, I'm now over a quarter century old and still haven't had a quarter life crisis or even a third life crisis, which, according to all my friends, is the in thing to do these days (does anyone else have twenty-something friends as silly as mine, who go about having quarter life crises and fussing about their age? I thought the point of being twenty-something was not having to comfort my friends about aging). I've decided that the next time my pals start moaning about how old we're getting I'll ask them how they think it feels to be Charles Dickens, who has now been dead longer than he was alive. That should at least get them off on another topic.

Luckily, unlike my friends, I do not feel ancient and decrepit at 26, and I'm even almost over my recent bronchitis, so I'm feeling pretty fit-as-a-fiddle. Had a beautiful birthday lunch at my favorite restaurant overlooking the ocean, which included a surprise complimentary macademia nut ice-cream pie drenched in plenteous fudge and whipped cream (delicious!). Other than that it was a fairly laid back birthday, apart from taking Spenser to the vet for his health certificate for the plane flight back to Chicago next week, which always is a bit like going on a mini safari. You have to go to a specialized vet with a bird: one who has expertise in avians and exotics. Because his vet in California almost exclusively does small and exotic animals, the waiting room is always like a discovery channel episode. Yesterday, for example, Spense and I were waiting with a bearded dragon, a python, a chameleon, an African Grey parrot, and one of the biggest white rats I've ever clapped eyes on (he was wrapped in a towel and until I saw the tail I thought it was a chihuahua). I didn't much like the way the python was eying my bird, but luckily the owner kept him in check and Spenser seemed merrily oblivious as he chirped away to a couple of budgies in the office, and squawked to the Amazon and the African Grey.

Tomorrow I head out for my birthday trip to Yosemite, which I'm incredibly excited about because I've never been there in winter before. It looks like they have a beautiful snow pack, but no snow falling and clear roads for driving. It'll be nice to have a get away for awhile after being sick and dealing with the stress about Gram's condition (which is steadily worse and hard on the family ). So, one happy newly twenty-six year old off for adventure in the mountains! I'll be sure to post some pictures (though can't guarantee the quality of the Ansel Adams below) when I return.