farmdoc's blog post number 415

Today’s my birthday. My 62nd birthday. Here are some of my thoughts on this day:

I’m happy to be alive.

I’m quite old. I hope I have a quarter of my life span yet to live. But who knows?

I once calculated I’d be 52-years-old at the turn of the century. And this century’s now over 9-years-old.

I’m six years older than my dad was when he died.

My health is reasonable. I’m having my annual blood tests at the end of this month. I should do more walking, bike riding, and wood cutting/splitting/stacking.

I’m doing the best quality work I’ve ever done. When it comes time for me to quit work, I hope I make that decision rather than have it foisted upon me.

I’m not seeing Sweetheart Vivienne or any of my darling children and grandchildren today. But I hope to speak with them on the phone. Including my youngest daughter far away in the US.

No candles for me today. And no cake.

I’m spending today doing mundane things, including preparing for work in the clinic tomorrow, writing supplementary medical reports, feeding hay to the goats and sheep, feeding Pete the Maremma, and collecting mail from the Post Office.

I share my birthday with composer Cole Porter, US politician Robert McNamara, actors Michael J Fox and Johnny Depp and Natalie Portman, cricketer Andrew Symonds, West Wing creator Aaron Sorkin, writer Patricia Cornwell, and locomotive inventor George Stephenson. Also Donald Duck.

I’m just a guy trying to live decently in an exceptionally beautiful place, and trying to tread lightly on a troubled and imperilled planet. I’m not doing so well on either count.

I am fortunate to be able to try, though. Doubly so, for I know how fortunate I am.

Yes. I’m truly happy to be alive.