Today is my birthday. I’m ** years old.

Thanks to Uncle Orv and Aunt Rachel, along with our reader Omie, who sent cards (Omie also sent a gift. I approve of this. Gifts to bloggers are always in order. Especially on their birthdays. Especially when they’re crotchety old bachelors).

I took myself out to Baker’s Square for supper tonight, to celebrate. I don’t go there often, not because I don’t like the food (I think it’s been getting better over the years) but because at my age, and following the reflux surgery I had, I have a hard time consuming a meal and a having a piece of French Silk pie on top of it. And skipping the French Silk is not to be thought of. Better to skip the meal.

I ordered from the Light Menu, but I’m still pretty stuffed. Nevertheless, I will not have it said that I did nothing to celebrate. Almost nothing, yes, but not nothing.

I’m still pretty beat from a weekend of almost constant social interaction (oh, the humanity!). We gathered at Brother Moloch’s home in Iowa for a double celebration (or observation. Or something). There was the baptism of their former exchange student, a young woman from Germany who is back temporarily for some medical training. “What?” you ask. “An adult baptism in a Lutheran church?” Yes, we do do them, in certain circumstances. This young woman was born in East Germany under Communism and has never been baptized. She’s been making up her mind on the matter for several years, under the influence of Moloch and his family. Now she’s decided that she wants to enter the church. Her parents and maternal grandparents came over for the event too. Her parents speak English but the grandparents don’t, but we all got along excellently. We spent most of our time sitting outdoors, which the Germans seemed to prefer. Fortunately the weather was mild, and it’s been a dry year so there weren’t many mosquitoes. We made conversation (or sat pretty much silent in my case) and watched the fireflies and listened to the cicadas.

There was also a commissioning for my Youngest Niece, whom we put on a plane for China about 6:30 a.m. Monday. She’ll be teaching English there for two years, under the same program her sister attempted a couple years back, but had to abandon due to ill health. There was much weeping and gnashing of teeth, but we’re all proud of her.

We also spent some time fooling around with an ultralight plane Brother Moloch bought and hopes to re-sell. He never got it off the ground, and didn’t really try to. He just wanted to figure out how the controls responded. My personal impression is that the thing was designed by Terry Gilliam and Dr. Kevorkian, but those who tooled it around like a go-cart had a good time, and they only tore up a small portion of the cornfields that surround the air strip.

For my birthday, my brothers took me out for a hamburger. The symbolism suffered, however, in that the local diner did not have Heinz ketchup for my Heinz birthday. But I choose to believe that they’re boycotting Heinz in disgust at Teresa Heinz Kerry, and I can get behind that.

It’s my birthday. Humor me.