Today was my 12053rd day on earth. Yes, I turned 33 years old.

Faithful readers may recall my account of my last birthday. Being on a Saturday, instead of a Friday, this year we held some small festivities. That, however was how the day ended.

The day began with a tradition we have kept for three years now. No, it's not a birthday tradition though it always falls close to my birthday. For the third time we have participated in Arms of Love's Lifewalk. Lifewalk is an event that raises awareness and money for the assistance and counseling of pregnant women and their children and families. Participants get people to sign up to donate money to Arms of Love and then meet together at a local park and walk a circuit of the park together. It is for a good cause AND you get free doughnuts! The weather was perfect for walking in the park, but Isaiah didn't want to ride in his stroller so I let him ride on my shoulders. He and I both had fun- especially close to the end when we passed under some trees. I'd walk straight towards the low-hanging leaves and branches and then lean forward or back or to one side so that Isaiah barely cleared them, all the while making appropriate airplane-type vroom noises. His happy giggles made it more than worthwhile, but didn't change the fact that, at the end, I was sweaty and ready to stop walking.

I was hungry, too. We had grilled cheese samdwiches. We have elevated the humble grilled cheese sandwich to an art form around here. My favorite modification is the addition of crispy bacon and plenty of jalpeño peppers. I didn't want to overload my stomach, though; I had to mow my mom's yard and my own and a gutful of lead was the last thing I needed.

After I'd driven the scout over to Ruth's aunt Ruth's house, borrowed her mower (there are three, count'em three lawn mowers in my basement in various states of non-functionality) and driven to my mom's house, I checked the tank on the mower and found it empty. Then I grabbed my trusty 2 gallon platic gas can and found it empty. Twenty minutes later, after refusing to pay ten cents per gallon too much even if it was for two dollars worth and then driving a quarter of the way across town to find a sanely priced station, buying two dollars worth in change, and then driving back to mom's house- I started mowing. Faithful readers may recall a previous description of the process of mowing my mom's yard. Extremely faithful readers, that is, I can't remember when I wrote it to provide a reference link. Let me just say that her yard isn't very large (though it is by no means small), but the backyard is about ninety percent hill. There is a level bit at the top about six to eight feet wide, but the slope of the rest varies from thirty to forty-five degrees. Nevertheless I can have her yard finished in about an hour including trimming. When hers is done, I bring the mower over to our house and finish ours in about an hour of solid, no stop, vigorous mowing. I enjoy doing it- it's my main source of physical excercise. I was lucky, though, that our grass hadn't grown much. Since it hadn't I was able to make the front look pretty good without having to bag it. That was fortunate because I was able to get our yard finished, take a shower, and get dried off and dressed in time to sit out on the back porch and read for a half hour or so before relatives were to arrive for the celebration.

Now I was able to attain the goal towards which I had striven all day. It is a treat far more rare than I like, to be able to sneak out back and relaxedly read a book in the sunshine. I had given some thought, earlier in the day, to which book I would choose if I actually had the opportunity to read for a while. Neither of the two library books I have right now seemed quite perfect. There is one book, though, that I've been meaning to read again for a while now. I remembered, too, that this book begins with a huge birthday party.

Widely-read, astute readers may have guessed, after recalling title of this issue of TOV just what book I chose to read. For those who haven't, though, those who may not be familiar with the works of this particular author, I will let the ol' cat out of the bag, so to speak. The book I chose was The Lord of the Rings by J. R. R. Tolkien. I have read this book before, as I have all four of the Ring books. In December, however, a cinematic version of The Lord of the Rings will be released and I want to re-read the book before I see the movie.

This book begins with the dual birthday of Bilbo and his nephew Frodo Baggins. Bilbo was tunining "eleventy-one" and Frodo, thirty-three. Bilbo and Frodo are hobbits. Hobbits are about half the height of a human, have very hairy feet and don't wear shoes. In case, you haven't guessed, these books are works of fantasy- you know swords, dragons, and wizards. Yes, I know, that's not your cup of tea. These books, though, are very good and might even appeal to non-fans of the genre.

Bilbo and Frodo's party was somewhat more elaborate than mine. Bilbo had numerous great pavilions set up in his yard- everybody in Hobbiton had been invited and the food and drink was limitless. Additionally, when hobbits throw birthday parties the birthday hobbit gives gifts to the party attendees!. Our party was all inside and there were only seven here- including me. The food, however, while not limitless, was marvelous. Ruth had made four loaves of bread in our bread machine and had made a whole crockpot full of one of her specialties: italian beef. Most importantly, though, all the gifts were for me. I got several gift cards and a check. That's fine with me. When asked what gift I would like for any occaision, my reply is almost universal. Liquid Green. Gift certificates are close enough.

To hobbits, who tend to live somewhat longer than humans, thirty-three is considered year at which one officially comes of age. Well, I think I've been of age for a few years now. I've got a child of my own, after all. I get up and go to a job every day. I worry about whether that job pays me enough to take care of my family. I fix my own car, partly because I like too, partly because I can't afford to pay a mechanic. I concernedly ponder the amount of life remaining in the roof of our house. Yes, I am an adult, but I'm not sure I'm what you'd call "grown-up". Remember, one of the high points of my day was reading about Bilbo and Frodo's birthday.

The highest point of my day, though,
was hearing Isaiah proclaim at the top of his lungs
"Happy birthday to Daddo!"