Blessed Event: Sixty Two Years...

...seven hours and thirty two minutes ago, I was born. Ten toes, ten fingers, everything in working order. Likely bawling, but I don't remember for sure.

Anyway, nothing special planned, except that my sister has invited me over for supper this evening.

Other than that, it's just another day.

Oh, and another thing. My parents considered several names for me. My father liked the name Frances. He also had a sister named Olive. My mother favoured Louise. I ended up with all three names, although, my mother, being the person who wore the pants in the family, must have insisted they refer to me as "Louise" rather than "Frances". Consequently, I have traveled through life with the initials F O Louise. I don't think she thought that one through. Or maybe she was just too innocent and unworldly.

My Mom use to play this on the piano:



Hey! Why can't I be self-absorbed once a year?

Another thing my mother used to do every fricken year on my birthday; she'd retell me that the year I was born they (dad) finished the harvesting the day I was born. Must have been early, or something. It never occurred to me to ask why she had to tell me that over and over again. Anyway, that was before they used to let fathers into the delivery room to witness the birth of their children. So I guess he must have driven mom to town, dumped her off at the hospital and went home again to finish the harvest. And what a bountiful harvest it was that year, eh!