…because my birthdate, down to the hour, isn’t for about another 12 hours. But that day in 1974 *was* a Saturday.
Apparently that was important enough to me to kick my mother repeatedly en utero before then, during a rather cheesy play called “Saturday’s Warrior” that many connected with the LDS/Mormon faith have mixed feelings about. I almost wrote a post about how the story follows the Monomyth, but… people are still choking on the campy aspects of the script and I thought it best to let it lie.
I did find my Julie, however. Some day, when people forget that story some more, I’ll talk about how elements of it ARE relevant to me. Some of them are quite esoteric, so… I’ll likely be very vague.
My pain is still rather out of control, and I suffered another sleepless night, although new medicines are doing a much better job.
I spent some time yesterday celebrating with my father. He is home alone for now because my mother went out of town to keep an eye on my grandmother as my grandfather had a hernia fixed (these are her parents). So the usual family get-together was nixed, and hopefully for just this year. Dad and I went to a fancy burger & spirits restaurant, which was nice, but I don’t want to make a tradition of it (especially as I don’t think I’ll have a $11-13 hamburger again anytime soon.)