I’m reporting in: 62 is great so far. Fab food, wonderful company – good vibes, as we old-timers used to say. One glitch only for my birthday party – we had salmon, shrimp and veggies ready to be barbecued by my barbecue-savvy son, who arrived reeling with flu-like symptoms, vomiting and feverish. He had taken Tylenol with codeine for back pain, and it turns out that he, like his sister, is allergic to codeine.

So he was lying in a dark room, not hovering over the barbie or making merry with the rest of us. But the food got cooked and consumed, nonetheless. And I was reminded, as I pressed my hand onto his hot forehead while my daughter dandled her own son, that motherhood starts 9 months before birth and never ends.

Speaking of motherhood, I am here to defend my own poor mother. An article on an American Olympic swimmer on the FRONT PAGE of the “Star” said this: “17-year old American Missy Franklin’s vertiginous physique is anchored by a pair of seal flippers – size 13 feet.”

EXCUSE ME! My mother had size 13 feet by the age of 12, to anchor her six foot tall body. Her shoes and my father’s were the same size, and at 88, she still has size 13 feet. She has spent her life in a tragically futile search for pretty shoes. Tall Girls – meh. There is nothing funny or seal flipperish about exaggerated appendages. TAKE THAT BACK.

There’s an event called ALL CAPS indie festival coming up in a few weekends on the Toronto Islands. If anything is guaranteed to make me feel old, it’s this rundown of the bands: (The last one sounds comprehensible …)

Plus! Swimming • Bonfires • Island Fun • New Food Vendors • And more!