Mom made a cake. Yes, my 80-something-year-old ( I wont say exactly ) Mother baked me a Birthday cake. I suppose I should stop squawking about sharing my childhood Birthday cakes with my sibling — but where’s the fun in that? I’m 60, I should be allowed to squawk about whatever I want to squawk about.
Having said that, my nephews suggested putting candles on the cake and my dear sweet Mother said, “no, the cake is a little overcooked as it is”. Now wait a minute, was that a comment about my age?
Aside from a dear friend ( Sharon Day ) giving me Dale the Doll, I suppose the best gift was a t-shirt that read, “I wanted to go jogging but Proverbs 28:1.” Trust me, I laughed.
Willy cleaned up my old study. He helped by taking home a big box of electronics and games — ha ha. Oddly enough, he didn’t want any of my books.
I don’t know what life after 60 will bring, but it started with cake.