45

I turned 45. Not very exciting.  I confused Eryn for a moment when I told her I was halfway to 50.  She and my wife got me a very neat business card holder for my birthday with a Marvin the Martian top. I'm not sure I needed a container for business cards, but if I had to have one, that one is pretty neat.

Yesterday, while digging around on the book shelf, I pulled out my old copy of Retha Warnicke's The Rise and Fall of Anne Boleyn. I met Retha back then when I was taking classes from Stanford Lehmberg (if anything makes me feel old, Stan dying last year does - I had some wonderful years learning history from him), and she was fun to talk to - some very interesting ideas and I think not being a crusty old prof who believed in history being a particular way and no other, but a young guy who actually seemed open to new ideas probably rubbed her the right way.

 

But the amusing part of picking up the book yesterday is that when I opened it, I found my wife's birthday card to me on my 24th birthday.  This year, instead of an "I love you" I got a card about a panda who stuck my cake up his butt and my daughter signed it to the "old man".  Times change.