Well, my birthday's come and gone, thank God. A real non-event now the years are piling up. Ironically, it's only recently, and after some 20+ years together, that my husband's up and started remembering the date on his own. Kind of like an old watch you've long ago given up on that suddenly, inexplicably, starts ticking rather reliably on its own.
Traditionally, birthdays in our house mean an actual dinner out at some place other than the Scottish restaurant at the corner (McDonalds). This year, though, my husband got it in his fuzzy little brain to surprise me with a Kindle, never mind I wasn't even sure I wanted one. First thing I downloaded was Kate Atkinson's latest: Started Early; Took My Dog which I Started Late (ha-ha) last night and hated, hated, putting down, it was so good. Bodes well for my electronic experience, I'm thinking, though I may have to keep a couple "real" books propped open in my lap while reading so I can get that "book smell" I love so much.