My Brithday . . .

. . .is almost over. I'm almost disappointed that it is passing without a mention from Mark. But what did I expect? Flowers and a card professing his undying love? I don't THINK so.

But it hasn't been a total loss. Pattie sprung for lunch and we had cake (yellow cake with sweet, sweet icing - my favorite) in the office - to celebrate all the October birthdays.

Why don't I feel 57? It seems as if it was yesterday that I was sitting in Shea Stadium watching the Beatles playing on a small stage set at second base. Or was it just yesterday that Heather was a toddler who never wanted to step her little bare feet on grass? Or maybe it was yesterday that I walked behind Rich's casket? No, yesterday, Heather, Pattie and Lorraine had a surprise 50th Birthday party for me. If that was only yesterday, how can I be 57 today?

And now the big question: at 57, do I want to "start all over again?" Do I want to try another relationship - meet someone new; learn about him: his likes, dislikes, his quirks; meet his family, see his house, meet his kids, his pets. Do I want to go through the grief of "the first time" - naked in bed? I've read that men of a certain age are just happy to be beside a naked woman in bed, stretch marks, fat, drooping breasts and all. Hmmm. I wonder who did the research on THAT one.

At 57, do I want to go through it all again?

If I'm going to put my 57 year old, drooping, stretch-marked psyche through that torture again, he better be the man of my dreams -