Happy Birthday

This has to go into the books as an unremarkable birthday, except that I slept too late. There might be a bit of symmetry there if I could remember my mother ever telling me that I arrived in this world early, late or just about on time. Perhaps a remarkable aspect of me is that I can be all three. I am never perpetually late, early or just about on time.

I prefer to mix things up; it's the Aquarian in me.

Back to the birthday. It could not even be called remarkable in that it was defined by 2 and 3 feet high drifts of snow outside, because, after, all it is February in a northern climate even though such heavy falls are less common now then when I was younger.

What could be remarkable is that, except for shoveling snow, I take the dreary weather of my birth month with much more equanimity now that I am older, or as singer-songwriter-actor Loudon Wainwright III (63) told Terri Gross in an interview on "Fresh Air" this afternoon, "closer to the end."

I'm not a particular fan of LWJ, but I enjoyed the interview because Terri Gross asks good questions; for example wondering what it was like for him to revisit songs he had written as a young and very different man, singing with a much younger voice. I don't recall the answer; I just was struck by the empathy the question evoked in me, because I feel like such a completely different person from young Katy. The journey hasn't always been easy, but it has been interesting. I've learned a lot that has helped me to be, I hope, a better person.

There are 50 minutes left in my birthday. Snow is falling and time is passing, softening all hard edges.

Monday night musing

Pilates is my new best friend. I took a class last week at my gym; it was tremendous. I will never have to lift weights again. Second class was today and I am still feeling it, in a good way. My friend Ellen loves it because its like yoga, except speeded up. And without all the weirdness. I've tried yoga twice and just can't get into it. So this is perfect until (slight pause for wry ironic expression) I get bored and look for something else. My Dad's mother had it right when she (so I've been told) described me as "bright, but easily bored." What a winning combination!

Ellen and I had dinner with Virginia tonight to celebrate Virginia's birthday at a nice restaurant on the South Side, Bruschetta's. White linen table cloths and napkins, tables nicely spaced, good service and food and no piped-in music, just right for dinner conversation. For as much of the town as I saw today, namely Downtown and the South Side, it seemed as if there was a collective Saint Patrick's Day hangover from the weekend, with everyone resting up for the real thing tomorrow. It's not my bag, but it sure seems to make a lot of people  happy, or at least crazed.

I like what Seattle does: it has a Saint Patrick's Day run. I think I'd rather do that than drink green beer.

Ellen drove me home and we talked on the way -- she has a rough few months ahead of her. Quick hug before I got out of the car and as I walked up the driveway, she rolled down her window and called my name. I turned around and she had a big smile on her face.

"We really are lucky, aren't we," she said.

Friends you choose, but family's a crapshoot. So I think I've hit the karma lottery, because I was born into a great family. Today's photograph is of my Dad and me, when I was just a few months old. Daddy was the family photographer, so I'm guessing my Mom snapped this. His mother, who was just grand,  supplied the succint description of me above.