Emails, personal greetings, texts, calls, facebook postings: short of a carrier pidgeon or a Morse-Code wiregram, I received well wishes from nearly every conceivable manner of communication.
I'll be honest, I was dreading the birthday. Dreading 37. Just dreading. To help chip away at this negativity, Mom pointed out: "Thomas, one day, quicker than you'd think, you'll be 62 wishing you were 37. Don't waste it."
Stacy didn't give up on getting together with me. I resisted and resisted and resisted. I wanted to go home and brood. Stupid. (She's responsible for the cake in the picture. White-Chocolate Raspberry Truffle Cheesecake!!)