My birthday is in less than 2 hours.

Here are the plans for my birthday weekend:

Tomorrow morning Matt, Trevor and I are going on a drive. Our goal is a secluded beach upon which we will look at the sea, smoke cigars and drink homemade beer (excusing Matt of course, as he is admirably legal).

Tomorrow night, us three plus Renae and Amber hopefully will be going to a play. We've purchased tickets, but I say hopefully in that somehow my plans usually fail. I don't know why. But God willing, we will be.

Saturday night, the plan is to have a mystery dinner at my house, with 8 friends and my sister and parents. It looks to be an exciting night of intrigues.

Sunday the family is having a family day. I don't know what we'll end up doing, but a nice dinner is in the works.

Monday I'm meeting my friend Katelyn in the afternoon, and another dear friend, Sharon, in the evening, the latter at a pub on Post Alley. I hope both of those dates work out because I really appreciate both of those people.

Tuesday morning I fly out to LA, pick up a car, and hopefully see Azina.

Tuesday, Wednesday and possibly Thursday I drive home.

Here's the part that terrifies me: after I pick up the car on Tuesday, I have no firm plans for the rest of my life. I feel like I'm setting off to swim across the pacific, knowing the only guaranteed stop is Asia on the other side. It looks very vast from here, and cold, and scary. And now that I'm swimming, I see no other course than to continue on towards the other side, which I call heaven, and home.

Wish me well. Voy con Dios.