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525,600 minutes, 525,000 moments so dear.
525,600 minutes – how do you measure, measure a year?
In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee.
In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife.
In 525,600 minutes – how do you measure a year in the life?

525,600 minutes! 525,000 journeys to plan.
525,600 minutes – how can you measure the life of a woman or man?
In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried.
In bridges he burned, or the way that she died.

How about love? Measure in love. Seasons of love.

-Excerpted from “Seasons of Love”

I was given another year, and my memory doesn’t allow me to remember everything that took place in it. The things that stay with me are the relationships built and friendships made. I wasn’t always so good at everything this last year, but I have good friends, and that makes for a good year. Thanks everyone. I look forward to this next year.

Comic courtesy of PBF Comics, which aren’t necessarily always something I’d recommend.

Opening A New Restaurant Checklist

• What sort of food will we serve?
• What kind of atmosphere will we have?
• How will we embarrass people on their birthdays?
• Where’s a good place for a restaurant?

I have to say, though, Texas Roadhouse has about the best way of going about it. Other places tend to have their own version of a birthday song that sometimes fits their overall theme, even if no one can ever understand the song. The servers tend to sing like it was a Nativity Play and they’ve been forced to wear a lobster suit and stand around the manger.

But at the Roadhouse, the servers confer amongst each other to get the loudest, most uninhibited person to lead the proceedings. I’ve actually witnessed it happening – “Chad, you do it. Please? No one can ever hear me if I do it.” They make the birthday person sit on a saddle, pull one of the hanging lights over as if it were a spotlight, and ask anyone who can hear to “give a Texas Roadhouse ‘yee-haw’.”

And, apparently, sitting on a saddle, having a light pointed at you, and being yee-hawed at isn’t enough. Now they’ve got these plastic cowboy hats for you to wear. I suspect the hats are designed for 12-year-olds, as it didn’t really fit on my head all that well (as you can see). The nice thing about it being plastic is that I can use it as a dip holder when next I serve some sort of cowboy-themed chips at my next movie gathering.

Oh, and apparently there’s a video of the yee-hawing somewhere, but I don’t have it. Since I’m trying to move past posting about my birthday, you might never get to see it. I know you’re crushed.

(Picture credit: Jeannie, who’s taken my place as the official photographer of all things Careerian. Pictured (l to r): Me, the back of Jeannie’s mom’s head, Melissa, two-thirds of Wendy’s face, and the back of Jeannie’s dad’s head.)

As for the days of our life, they contain seventy years,
Or if due to strength, eighty years,
Yet their pride is but labor and sorrow;
For soon it is gone and we fly away.

-Psalm 90:10 (NASB)

Comic courtesy of PBF Comics, which aren’t necessarily always something I’d recommend.