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Science makes the beat go on forever
My father was born in a year of flying saucers. He keeps waiting for them to come back for him, but since he's still on this planet, we celebrated his sixty-sixth birthday today with hamburgers and angelfood cake and books. My mother is reading my niece's unbirthday present to her, a picture book about being followed around by ideas. I spent some time clearing branches out of the side yard. My father is talking about New York City; my brother leaves for Radolfzell tomorrow. Geopolitically, things are worse every time I look. On the household level—this is important—today is all right.
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It reminds me of the thingy about the universe unfolding as it should.
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Yes. To this season.
*hugs*
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Thank you! I shall tell him!
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I'm very glad to hear it. Happy birthday to your dad!
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Thank you!
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Love.
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Thank you!
Love.
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Thank you! I'll pass it on!
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P.
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Thank you.
*hugs*
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May he have many, many more!
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1952, year of the highest recorded incidence of flying saucer sightings in America. This fact has always meant a lot to him.
May he have many, many more!
Thank you. I shall tell him so!
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Many, many happy returns of the day.
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True! I will remember to tell him.
Many, many happy returns of the day.
Thank you.
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Nine
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Thank you.
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Thank you.
*hugs*
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Thank you! I will.
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Thank you.
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Thank you! I'll tell him.