The first 12 of 45
I fell asleep last night wondering if musicians get goosebumps or tear up when they play their best songs live. I thought this after getting goosebumps and tearing up to this.
Comfortably Numb, live.
I drifted off to sleep having been wished ‘Happy Birthday’ from 3 countries in which I was already born – and with David Gilmore and Roger Waters echoing in my head.
9:30 p.m. I hear my son coughing violently in the kitchen – then:
Nic: “Don’t mind me – just choking”
Me: “Obviously you’re breathing”
Nic: “ha ha. Don’t rush out to check on me or anything”
Nic: “That’s my mom!” (as if he’s got a crowd he’s informing of this. “That’s my mom ladies and gentlemen”)
I smile and close my eyes.
10:30 p.m. Eyes back open. My son is church mousing around in the kitchen, the house shakes. He has inherited my delicate elephant stomp.
12:04 a.m. Awoke from a dream involving two special friends from the past and a mystery man – we’d gone on a crazy roller coaster and then to a Depeche Mode concert. Ended up on stage and of course, I was taking photos.
2:00 a.m. Butters stands beside my bed, breathing on me. I try to ignore her.
2:30 a.m. Butters stands closer – breathing more heavily. I get up, let dog out and leave front door open for the dog and any and all serial killers to have easier access to me while I returned to bed.
4:00 a.m. Seriously??? Dog is nowhere to be seen, so what the hell has roused me this time????
5:00 a.m. Peer at clock with gritty, tired eyes … too tired to roll them in anguish
5:30 a.m. I give up.
Didn’t have that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling as I scooted out of bed and wobbled to the bathroom.
I always at least have that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling first thing in the morning (well, on birthday mornings anyway, not every morning obviously)
I guess 45 is the cut off for that pink frosted feeling.
Son sleeping, dog still outside.
I microwave a cup of yesterdays coffee, because I’m too lazy and uncoordinated to make a new pot.
Shower cap in hand, towel at the ready, I sit and wait for my alarm, because I have no clue how to turn it off prematurely.
6:00 a.m. Shower. I ponder while I’m in there.
Why do men have the best razors??
Seriously, considering the skin footage we women have to shave compared to men – shouldn’t ours be cutting edge? (No pun intended) and don’t give me that ‘But men have to shave their delicate angled faces’ crap, because you know as well as I do that women shave a hell of a lot more ‘delicate’ places and we have curves and angles too!
I will only buy mens razors.
7:10 a.m Dressed – still sipping my microwaved coffee – my mum calls and sings at me from the dog park.
7:20 a.m. I’m milling about the house now … always ready early – always restless.
I spy a banana in the fruit bowl that looks like a duck. I think perhaps it was bored, in there all alone – and decided to morph in order to have some fun.
I decide I like that banana instantly.
I give Butters two of her biscuits and then proceed to tip two vitamins in my hand and pop them in my mouth – along with dog biscuit crumbs.
*sigh* I’ll count that as breakfast.
7:35 a.m. I decide to plant a kiss on my sleeping sons cheek – he’s shirtless in bed with a sunburn
Me: “Hey naked … I’m outta here”
(I’m sure he’s got ‘Happy Birthday’ planned to exit his mouth later.)
Out the door I go.
I hope for a really amazing song in the car – no luck. I end up pretending to know the words to a new Shakira song and sing out of key.
7:45 a.m. Arrive at work.
I unlock the door … notice the ‘Happy Birthday’ sign place above my desk has fallen off of the wall. I put it back up after I disable the buildings alarm. Then I wonder if that’s self-appreciating or just helpful. Decide it doesn’t matter, my OCD needs that sign back up where it was.
There is a birthday card on my keyboard.
A little while later, another card heads my way in the hands of my sweet friend Ruth. A tiny ribboned box perches atop it.
The card cracks me up.
This is it:
The little box opens to reveal a teeny tiny necklace. This friend knows me well. I love ‘little’. I love delicate. I love the necklace and she stands behind me and puts it on.
Friend: “Now we’re married.”
I’m thinking I could do a lot worse. She’s amazing. And she knows my humor and taste.
We would be bound to have a long and successful union – except she’s still madly in love with her husband.
The broker comes through the door with the most adorable tulips – and yes, they’re for me.
I’m feeling spoiled – and it’s only 9:15 a.m
10:48 a.m. Finally got a Happy Birthday from my son.
He has accompanied his girlfriend to the dentist and the following instant messages ensued:
Him: I just saw a turtle wet a fallen flower
Me: It would have been funnier if it HAD wetted it
Him: Lol, well the flower just fell from a nude into the water, and the turtle ate it and went underwater, So I guess he did. Lol
Me: I don’t even want to know why your ipad confuses ‘bush’ with ‘nude’ lmao
Him: lol, oh no.
Him: Happy birthday by the way
We have the strangest conversations. I hope he doesn’t eat the duck banana before I can point it out to him.
Yeah sure, I could show him a photo – but it’s so much better to meet a duck banana in the flesh … peel?
My boss takes me to lunch from 11:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. We sit outside and chat. The view is gorgeous. I enjoy her company. We shared a room on a business trip to Phoenix a while ago – and over 8 hours in the car together. I like her. That’s the true test you know, a long car ride and sharing a room successfully.
I have the Mahi-Mahi wrap with wasabi and soy – SO good.
First meal of my 45th year, other than that dog biscuit crumb I had for breakfast.
You know, I never thought I’d make it to 30, let alone 40 … and now I’m half way to 90 for crying out loud!
And 90 is doable. Considering my little and delicate nannie just celebrated 91.
If I wore her on a necklace, close to my clavicle, she might see 101.
Home now, my parents have just left – and wouldn’t you know it? A pink frosted thing came with them.
I’m too full and too tired to eat any of it – but after the first 12, I did catch a glimpse of that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling.
Wishing you a ‘Happy’. That’s it. Carry on.
Attended the annual Christmas party on Saturday and the requisite topic of this time of the year was overheard by my bionic ear. (Okay, the person was about 3 people from me at the table, although it was a bit of a feat to hear them over the lounge singer).
“I won’t say Happy Holidays, it’s Merry Christmas“.
Now, I’ve always sort of agreed with that. Well, more to the point, agreed that people should be allowed to say “Merry Christmas” – and maybe it was my shiny dress talking but I heard myself say (or my dress say), “But there are a lot of holidays in December. A proprietor has to consider all of their customers”.
There’s Hanukkah, Christmas, Yule, Kwanzaa, New Years, to name a few.
Unless someone’s holding a manger set and wearing a cross, I’d be jumping to a conclusion to say “Merry Christmas!” as a customer checked out.
Isn’t that pretty serious profiling to just assume something as personal as someone’s religious beliefs?
No one get’s offended when they’re told “Happy Presidents Day!” (Do they?!)
I can’t recall getting the response, “HEY! I celebrate Lincolns birthday – don’t lump that Federalist Washington in there!”
Then again, to be perfectly honest, I don’t recall wishing someone Happy Presidents Day either.
I personally wouldn’t be offended if anyone wished me a happy anything.
Happy works for me.
I’ll even roll with “Happy Birthday” if it’s not my birthday. Why not?
But God forbid (literally apparently) a cashier notice a birthday while looking at a Jehovah’s Witness drivers license. No celebrating that for them.
It’s all so bonkers.
Just smile and nod people. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.
There are in fact multiple holiday’s in December.
Just wish every one a ‘Happy’.
Ooo! And here’s my shiny dress.