Dorothy knows how it feels...

It was so windy today I think some shingles blew off of our roof. This wouldn't be unsual, except for the fact that the house we live in was only bult last year, so you would think the shingles would stay on. Phone calls will be made.

My cousin's oldest daughter turned 3 on the 10th, which makes her only 5 days younger than our daughter. It's strange to see kids grow up so quickly. I remember time moving so slowly when I was younger and I always semed to be waiting for some magical age to arrive, as if turning 13, 16, 18, 21 or even 30 actually meant something other than how many years you've been alive. I remember being on vacation on thre coast and my aunt asked me what I age I would pick, if I could be any number. I was 9 at the time, but my older cousin was 13 and I idolozed her, so naturally I said 13. When I actually turned 13 it didn't seem like such a big deal afer all. Perhaps the mystique of my cousin having her 13th birthday on a Friday the 13th made the age seem more intriguing.

Ruminating on age isn't something I've ever really done. I don't feel like getting older is such the tragedy it is portrayed as, but I don't have a career where my external appearance increases my worth (i.e. actress, model --HA!!), or is age dependent (i.e. like an athlete). Death itself never really bothered me until I was a parent, with my fear being that something will happen to me or my husband or worse yet to one, or both of the kids. Knocking on wood just doesn't seem like enough of a means of protection.

You would think that with the time change and the extra amount of daylight my thoughts would take a more cheerful turn, wouldn't you? I think my morbid tangent has been triggered by the drive the other day where we passed the columbarium that contains my grandfather's ashes. It bothers me that my son barely remembers him and especially because my daughter never met him. More to the point, I just don't think that a concrete container with a plaque on it really encapsulates a person. Mind you, I've always thought that the body was akin to a wrapper--you discard it after the essence inside is gone.

Whew, that seems a little too depressing a line of thinking for one of the first really warm days of the year. Funny how that works, eh?