Today is my birthday. I’ve been on this earth 19,358 days. My step daughter has been studying the solar system.  If I lived on Sedna (minor planetary body at the outer edge of our solar system and a name my friend wanted to give my dog), I would not yet be two years old.  My life history is inextricably recorded in my skin, especially my hands, which are horribly damaged from the Sun.  A lifetime of swimming and practicing archaeology have created this ugliness.  But my hands have also served me well.  Every day, they allow me to type.  As a swimmer, they pushed my body forward.  I’ve tortured them with chemicals in a laboratory and with injuries cooking or building and repairing things.  These are perhaps my favorite accomplishments, for everything that is held in the brain is ultimately transmitted via my hands.