A little while later, I was born.
Birthdays typically celebrate the child's being born, but I think we should take a minute to congratulate the mothers for the giving of birth.
So congratulations, Mother Dearest, for surviving the ordeal of childbirth. Twice.
I really don't understand what's supposed to be so special about turning sixteen. But then, maybe it's because I don't drive.
I certainly don't feel sixteen, at any rate. But then, maybe it's because I don't drive.
It all seems to come back to that point. If I start driving, will I see life in a different light?
I'd probably hold it more dearly.
For me, the most special thing about turning sixteen is that it's the fifth anniversary of pony ownership.
|Meet Gracie, my wittle pony wony.|
|For contrast, see summer coat.|
|Gabriel, who would more aptly be called Lucifer.|
The actually anniversary, I believe, is October 21 or 22. Possibly 23. But today marks the promise of mini horseness to come.
|This was the little Gabe I first fell in love with. He certainly put on a convincing angelic act.|