Trader Joe's helps celebrate my birthday

Trader Joe's is an excellent establishment. They have lots of crackers, cheese, cereal, inexpensive prosciutto that is entirely adequate for many uses, reasonably priced organic meats, kosher chicken, my favorite lavender bath salt scrub, and lots of booze. The checkers are quick and courteous, rarely failing to ask whether I found everything I was looking for. But yesterday they really outdid themselves. THEY CARDED ME. As in asked for my identification to determine that I was old enough to buy alcohol. THE DAY BEFORE MY 46TH BIRTHDAY (which is thus today). I couldn't decide whether to burst into tears or do a line of cartwheel through the frozen foods, so I just thanked the lad . . . several times. Who knows, maybe they've upped the limit at which they are instructed to card people to anyone who looks under 45. Or maybe he thought I looked a little tired and could use a lift. I didn't ask. At my age, you've got to take it where you can. 

And about that age. The downhill side to 50.  I'll tell you, it's not all hilarious. The wrinkles you catch in the mirror out of the side of your eye. The hands that look like they belong to someone else. The weight you can simply not run or spin off. But I'll take it. Four years ago when I had just been diagnosed with breast cancer, I asked my doctor "Will I be ok???" His answer was a brutally honest "You know I can't give you an answer to that." It turned out further biopsies, dissections, etc. proved his prediction concerning the nature of my cancer wrong. Turns out you can have a very large tumor that is not invasive. I lost a breast but kept my hair. He now tells me chances are very good that I am going to be just fine and live a long time. But I spent a couple of months around this very time of year between tests not knowing. And I remember so clearly that birthday where the only thing I wanted was more birthdays. So bring them on. Happy birthday to me. 

p.s.—Please do your monthly self-exam. Right now would be fine.