It's My Birthday, Precious

On Sunday, November 6, I turned 30. This was a big milestone for me, as for years I never thought I'd make it to my 30th birthday.

Y'see, I was an accident-prone child. My parents were taking me to the emergency room a lot. I've almost cut my earlobe off (requiring stitches), split open one of my eyelids horizontally (more stitches), sliced through my upper lip horizontally (yet more stitches) and vertically almost to my nostril (again with the stitches). I've broken both arms and the little finger on both hands (in one case, I broke my left little finger on a Monday and my right arm the next Saturday - while I was teaching at a first aid camp).

I was a fairly reckless teen, as these things go. My parents used to let me walk to nearby stores before I could drive. Goodness only knows why, as I used to just walk out into traffic on the four-lane highway that was the main drag in our town, secure in my adolescent invulnerability and the knowledge that the drivers could see me and would brake in time.

I was hit by a car on October 30 of 1993, seven days prior to my 18th birthday. Actually, pinned between two cars would be more accurate. Happened in my own driveway, for crying out loud! I spent my 18th birthday in the hospital, taking anticoagulants so that the blood clots, which formed when my calf muscles were compressed by the two cars, didn't go to my brain and give me a stroke or go clog my heart or something. I spent a week in the hospital and three weeks out of school.

See? I have no idea how I made it, either. Somehow I did, though. In any event, we had a party on Saturday night to celebrate. Heather and I decided (before we were hit with... well, before Savannah was hit, I guess) that we'd do a movie/TV themed night, just to have some variety. We weren't sure how people would take it, but they seemed to like the idea and most people showed up in costume.

<-- me (as Indiana Jones), my dad (as Henry Jones, Sr.) and Mitchell (as Indiana the dog)