33: The immortal number of one Eddie Murray.  The age my mother claimed as her age for nearly a decade.  The street where Memorial Stadium once stood; I spent countless childhood nights waiting on 33rd street for autographs after ball games.  The street that now is across from my workplace, the Eisenhower Library.

Oh yeah, and my age as of today.

That’s right, it’s my birthday.  And I’m celebrating all right.  Marcia made a nice dinner for all of us and baked a cake.  And she bought me a new watch… I haven’t had a watch since before I worked at Duke, been a long time.  I’m so excited!

I can’t really put into words how I felt when I crossed the threshold to my house tonight.  Noah opened the door and wished me a happy birthday with no prompting!  (Then he told me what they got me for my birthday.  I pretended not to hear that last part.)  The watch is really nice.  The best part, I no longer need to take my cell phone out of my pocket to see what time it is, hard to do so inconspicuously.

I had a long day today.  For no particular reason, really, but I was just in a funk.  And was really tired.  So, when I finally arrived at home, it was a real relief.

Tomorrow I have to go back to work again.  Probably another long day.  And a lacrosse game tomorrow night, playoffs.  My nerves will probably get the best of me tomorrow, like they always do on game days, regardless of the level of competition.

But tonight, as I crash on my pillow in a few minutes, all will be right with the world.

I love you, babe, thanks for a great birthday!