Mike turns . . . a whole bunch today. Seventy-three, I think. But as he says, he's in pretty good shape for the shape he's in. He can still make it down to the footbridge and back, as we did this morning. And his mind is still as sharp as a doorknob.
Case in point: On our walk a couple of days ago, we spied this red-shouldered hawk perched on top of a basketball backboard in someone's driveway. M took out his camera and got a nice close-up of him. Then he made a joke that was so subtle I had to do some online research before I understood it. What he said was, "Do you suppose he's one of those Atlanta Hawks?" (Google as necessary.)
Here's the bird:
As for birthday festivities, I believe relaxation is high on the list. In fact, if I know M, it is the list! And I'm sure he'll be forgoing the traditional cake in favor of chicken pot pie:
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