The Birthday

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.

1 thought on “The Birthday

  1. Happy birthday. If you can keep a secret, I had to ask my husband how old I will be turning on my birthday next month? We had this long conversation over drinks at a bar where I confessed that I spent a lot of time during church trying to do the math to figure out how old I am. I still can’t do it. The age doesn’t add up to me. I think that I am getting too old to figure out my age. Totally embarrassing. True story

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