Last week I celebrated my birthday.

It is the latest in a long string of birthdays, each celebrated one way or another.

Last week it was breakfast at IHOP with a group of ten women I meet with regularly. Gifts were given and I marveled at how well they have come to know me in the few short years since we moved to southern Indiana.

The first birthday I can remember was age three. A photo of a proud little girl carrying a two-layered, home-made chocolate cake with three candle on it confirms my memory.

Can you believe I can still hear my parents, one saying to be careful, the other asking the first if my carrying the cake such a distance to the porch was a good idea. Apparently there were no mishaps since surely I would have remembered dropping the main course of the celebration.

Cards and face book messages were received from relatives and friends, with kind notes about having a good year or thanks for being part of their lives. Sadly, and embarrassingly, I am not a card sender, just a card receiver. I am not sure I know when my sisters' birthdays are; okay, one I know because it's right after Christmas which never quite seemed fair to me.

Former bosses and co-workers, casual acquaintances, Ecards from folks I'd helped with their adoptions...how do these people keep track of birthdays?

Like years past, this year I vow to start celebrating other lives in the same way they celebrate mine. I will get cards, stamps and a little calendar with dates on it. I will remember to send cards early...or really cute belated cards late.

I will let you know how I do. If you want a card from me, email me your birth date. I think this just may be the year I get it done. And that's what I think about it.