I am officially old today. 35 isn’t old, you say? (How kind of you.) But on my OB chart for my third child, there is a note of “advanced maternal age.” Ergh. Good thing I am not one of those freaks giving birth at 62!! Apparently 35 is ancient enough.
Simon made a point of telling everyone we encountered today at the doctor’s office that it was my birthday, and how old I was. Then he endeared himself further by pointing out that I wasn’t ancient – Daddy was older than me. Good boy!
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Why is it that even if you feel like death warmed over, you immediately feel better after having been to the doctor? The doctor didn’t tell me anything I didn’t know – that I have a raging sinus infection made worse by a too-short course of antibiotics the first time – but I still felt immensely better walking out of his office with my prescription for horse pills in hand. And they are HUGE – I swear they’re as big as Jude’s head.
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I got some cash from my in-laws for my birthday. I plan to go buy the new Elizabeth George, instead of waiting for it at the library. She’s *always* a good read, and as I mentioned, I MUST know who dies! Then the rest of the cash gets cached to buy the new Beth Gutcheon due out in May. I also happen to know – because I picked them all out myself as previously noted – that I am getting a stack of books for my birthday tonight. Along with chocolate cake! It really couldn’t get any better.
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I stole these from David’s site, but I edited down to my three favorites, in order of preference –
A vulture boards an airplane, carrying two dead raccoons. The stewardess looks at him and says, “I’m sorry, sir, only one carrion allowed per passenger.”
Two fish swim into a concrete wall. The one turns to the other and says, “Dam!”
Two hydrogen atoms meet. One says “I’ve lost my electron.” The other says “Are you sure?” The first replies “Yes, I’m positive.”
As my father-in-law likes to say, "Da da da dum!"
2 comments:
I do not like the fact that you are old, as that has unfortunate ramifications for me. Please correct your situation.
When I called my friend Ronelle to wish her a happy 35th birthday a few years ago, she said, "Thanks. I'm half-way to dead." She's a charmer, that Ronelle.
Typing that made me realize how quickly she's apporaching 40...Which means that I'm not far behind. How can the girl who introduced me to VC Andrews and Old Mil pounders be any where near 40? Cripes!
I'm with David--someone needs to correct this situation.
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