A thousand thank-yous to everyone who wished Herself a happy (mumble-mumblth) birthday yesterday.

The eldest neighbor kid popped by after dinner to give her a hug and sing “Happy Birthday.” Lord, is she ever growing like a weed. A wee babe in arms she was when first we laid eyes on her, and what would become El Rancho Pendejo, during an open house back in the summer of 2014. And now she’s a middle-schooler as tall as Herself.

Earlier in the day, after cake for breakfast, Herself and I went for a 5K jog in the foothills, which is where we saw the paraglider above, setting up for a landing near the Menaul trailhead.

Fun to watch, but as pasatiempos go it’s not for me. Two broken ankles later when faced with a tall curb I long for an escalator.

Especially on Friday the 13th. I ain’t superstitious, but after 70-odd years of acting the fool from coast to coast, something — or Someone — is bound to be out to get me.