|Joe and I wintering in Arizona 2013|
When I was a child, November was always my favorite month because it meant birthday presents and cake and ice cream. There was only one problem. My sister’s birthday was just nine days after mine and because our mother was very thrifty, we celebrated our birthdays together, on one day with one cake. I remember being upset and outright exasperated that Mother didn’t understand the seriousness of this issue. After all, didn’t the word birthday mean birth-day, the day of one’s birth?