The Footless Man has a birthday

He got a rough start to life.  He was diagnosed with Diabetes  at age 2, at a time when the therapies and technology were pretty crude.  His mother was told ( in his hearing) that he would not live to make ages 9,13,21, or 30. Estimates given by doctors, all of whom are dead.

He married me late, after a checkered career.  Everybody had doubts about how this was going to work out.  We did it anyway after dealing with very determined opposition from family.

He took on two small children and did his very best to raise them well. He took me on and supported me through both a long healing process and all the years of struggle to get an education. 
He has been slowed down by three heart attacks, two amputations, eye problems, frozen shoulders, and episodes of  insulin shock too numerous to list.

While moving some slower, He continues to plug away at house and yard maintenance, the kitchen renovation, and all the minutia of the house including his hoard of catalogs that he tends in the basement.

Last Wednesday,  The Footless Man turned 71.

I though long and hard about how to mark this occasion.

Last year I managed to trade work with a bluegrass singer who came in and played to him and Dad  for a joint birthday celebration

There is no topping that

so I didn't.

This year The Footless man got his yard cushions replaced with better yard cushions, and I made him a cake.

This is big. 

Diabetics don't eat cake much (Too many concentrated carbs), so how do you make a cake they can eat?

This is made of meatloaf.  The frosting is mashed potatoes.

He was both touched and thrilled that I would take the time and effort in a week when I was getting back home after 8 pm.

Happy birthday, and congratulations.  You will never ever die young anymore.