Yes. The rumors you’ve heard are all true.
It’s my birthday.
And really, I never thought I’d reach this far in age, without having my own personal space ship hovering in my garage, with a glass dome on top, because… by the time I was THIS OLD… I figured we’d all be living in oxygenated bubbles on the moon.
And eating Pop Rocks candy all the live-long day.
But it’s been a fantastic day, starting with the Starbucks drink that Hubs dashed out for at 7:15 this morning, so that he could be the first person to hand me an Oprah chai on my birthday, and ending with dinner at a restaurant in town with Mam and Pa, and Sister and her family, and Thing 2, who loudly voiced his instant aversion to eating macaroni and cheese hand-delivered by a waitress to his table.
And then there’s Facebook. I think the Good Lord was plum proud that Facebook could be used to send you thirty thousand birthday greetings over the course of a single day. It was a ton of fun, y’all.
And… the fun has made me tired, because I’m not seventeen any longer, no matter how hard I pretend it, so I’m off to bed.
At my age, I need my beauty sleep!
Happy Tuesday, y’all.