For my 66th birthday, the gang from high school came to help me celebrate with a lunch. They brought most of the food including the cake. They also brought funny cards, presents, and an abundance of good humor. I had a real wish and to my astonishment could not blow out seven candles. Christine said, "It's those three cigarettes you smoked." Those cigarettes have come back to haunt me. First I have to have an operation to staple shut three congenitive holes in my lung and now it's going to take five years for my wish to come true. I don't know that the cyberknife can save me. There's some kind of object lesson here. Perhaps for some future word of wisdom talk I can impress upon the congregation the wages of sin: three cigarettes wreaking havoc with my body. Remember children, never never never smoke.
It's okay to have sex, though.
My friends are (bottom row from l. to r.) Marie, Jane (top row) Wendie, Christine, me, Melanie and Nan.