Breakage

Here's what the garden looks like these days. Very autumnal, right? As you can see, the walnut tree is shedding its leaves and most of the bedding plants have gone to seed. I love this time of year.

Yesterday I kept getting helpful little alerts on my computer:

Yes, that's right, today is my birthday -- the big five-three. Why my computer felt it had to tell me that, I'm not sure.

We had a mini-celebration in my office. My co-workers gave me a snazzy card, a box of cookies and cakes from a local bakery and a nice bottle of white wine. They cleverly held out until the very end of the work day, so I thought I might sneak out without creating a fuss, but in the end it felt good to be acknowledged. Dave has something in the works for today -- some kind of midday surprise -- and I have no idea what that's about.

One bit of bad news, though:

I broke one of my wine glasses last night! (Yes, while sampling my birthday wine.) It was sitting on the floor next to the couch, and I crossed my legs and hit the glass with my heel. I was so bummed! My friend Sue gave me these glasses way back in 1991, when we both lived at the DeSoto Apartments in Tampa. They've lasted an astonishing 28 years! Now Dave and I don't have any stemware with four matching pieces.

I've toyed with fixing it. I have some super glue that might do the trick. But I think I'd then be afraid to use it.

I remember, as a kid, breaking a handle on one of our coffee mugs and gluing it on with rubber cement. My mom was using it one morning when suddenly the mug peeled away in slow motion and she was left covered with coffee, holding just the handle. She was not happy.

Some things are just not meant to be fixed. (Certainly not with rubber cement.)