It's Not My Birthday

When I signed up to Facebook under my pen name, they asked for a date of birth and I put 22nd September 1968. That is not my birthday. It's not that far off. I'll be hitting 60 years of age soon, but I'm an Aquarius (if you believe in that sort of stuff, which I shouldn't, but it creeps up on me). I just checked and those who are born on 22nd September are Virgos. As I said, I'm an Aquarius, the fruit loops of the zodiac. However... my mother was a Virgo. My father was a Virgo. My best friend at school was a Virgo. My first boyfriend was a Virgo. My bridesmaid was a Virgo. My husband is a Virgo. There are a lot of Virgos in my life getting extremely irritated by my lack of sense. One of the other sensible star signs (allegedly) is Capricorn. Those in my life with that star sign are bear (who has a lot to put up with), my late mother-in-law, my father's long term girlfriend, my husband's neice, his brother-in-law and his lovely auntie. Any other birthdays are well spaced out. It's just the expensive ones that group together.

Photo by Logan Voss on Unsplash

I searched for 'Virgo' on Unsplash and this came up. Nothing more relevant showed and I thought that this was pretty so I decided to share. 

Anyway if you're on Facebook, you may see a prompt to wish me happy birthday and ninety people already have. I feel incredibly guilty about that. I'll say thank you to them all, and I feel incredibly grateful that someone took the time to send good wishes, but I'll feel guilty every time I press 'thanks + post' even as I feel hugged. Besides, I'm still going through my Facebook friends. I wrote an explanation here, but it's my author page and I love accepting friend requests, but it got indiscriminate and I've been using birthdays as a way of slowly picking through my friend list. There have been so many inactive accounts and the birthday reminder is so useful for this. However I do wonder about how many birthdays are the real birthdays.

I called in to Marks and Spencer today. My walking is getting worse, but I managed a short walk while hanging onto a trolley and I noticed that the Christmas stuff had started to come out.

I kept meaning to take better pics but things got a way from me. It's been a lovely day here, really sunny and a welcome change after all the rain. I've been spending most of it with bear as we sorted out what he's taking with him to university. It's currently stashed in four bags for life, the packaging for a duvet, the packaging for pillows and a backpack. That doesn't include his clothes, but it includes all the kitchenware and a few bits of groceries to start him off. 

There have been some fairly intense discussions about what he does and doesn't need. Bear is sticking with a minimalist plan, which I'm sure will be fine. It's driving me nuts, though I'm trying to hide it from him, and I'm sure that I'll keep worrying. 

Of course I'll worry a little about bear, but I think that he'll be okay. Wherethejourneytakesme said that perhaps bear had inherited the numbers ability from my great aunt. From where I sit, he's inherited the ability to get on with absolutely anyone from father, but he's also inherited my maternal grandfather's ruthless intolerance to fools. As far as he's concerned, peer pressure happens to other people and he'll quitely and undramatically do as he damn well pleases. While it would be nice to be able to persuade him, for example, to at least take a dressing gown with him, it's reassuring to know that he's not easily influenced, or at all, really. 

The next few weeks are likely to be odd for DH and I. I'm sure that there are many reading this who understand what I mean. Since I became pregnant, back in April 2006, DH and I have centred our lives around bear. I mean, we haven't tried to take over his life or force our way in, but our lives have been very much about what is the best for bear. Now we need to recentre a little. To be honest, I think it's going to be fun.

Hugs and good health to all.