39, and counting...

Russians often engage in a curious way of counting anniveraries. A child who has celebrated (by our understanding) his or her sixth birthday is typically said to be—not incorrectly, I might add—in his or her "seventh year," whereas we Americans will describe such a child a being "six years old." So instead of crowing about our thirty-ninth anniversary, I shall take this opportunity to note that today, Galina and I embark upon our fortieth year of married life.

And as I do so, it occurs to me to realize just what a fortunate ess-oh-bee I truly am to be in the midst of the people who surround me, and that despite the Current Threat to My Existence™ that hangs over me like Damocles' fabled sword, right now, I feel like one of the luckiest and most fortunate people on the face of the planet because of them.

I can only hope that I prove worthy of their care, effort, and consideration.

Cheers...