What? That again?

The 3rd marked another birthday, passed quietly with a post-work dinner with a few colleagues at La Poisonnerie, a venerable dining spot in Brussels, where I shared a grilled cuttlefish with Boyd, then enjoyed (such a pale word) pasta with langoustines. Heavenly. What was dessert - oh, right, a citron sorbet. Nice evening, with much talk about language and religion. We appear to all have extremely different views on religion, but it was an intensely civil, exploratory conversation, thinky and generous.

Far different from last year. That one was was the 60th and I had recently finished almost a year of sick leave for breast cancer treatment, still smarting from having my medical clearance pulled the day before I hoped to get on the flight for Afghanistan (and still smarting today, as well).

So, I was going back to work, getting hair back, had spent a restorative month in Greece and fetched back Mabel and The Devil in a Dog Suit, and needed a birthday present. Every year I give myself a little something, but this year, I thought, was special. I'd spent a lot of money on house renovations: two bathrooms, kitchen, roof, gutters and downspouts, a bay window. All that was left was to fix up the front garden, probably starting with a new driveway.

Hmm. A new driveway for THAT birthday. I actually seriously considered it.

Then better thoughts prevailed. Instead of replacing the driveway, I just made it look a whole lot classier:





Yep. That worked.


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