My Birthday

So, I'm 36 now. I think to a lot of people, I now qualify as old. Probably, I qualified as old before I was just ignoring them because I wasn't yet the dreaded "middle aged". But I am now. Old and middle aged... all at the same time. Oh Woe Is Me.

I read a quote not so long ago that said, "Do not regret growing old. It is a privilege denied many." Since it is true and it puts me in my place, I will not complain too loudly. Besides, as far as birthday's go, it was a pretty good one.

It started with me forgetting it was my birthday. WOOHOO!!! Any time you can forget you are no longer the 28 you remember, it is good news. LOL

Unfortunately, everyone felt it necessary to remind me through the day that it was my birthday, but I never once got all 36... I mean 28 candles on my cake. I got 5, and then 6, and then about 10 :)

They ordered pizza at work and we all stood around talking about... guess?... you can't guess can you?... no really, guess... that's right, we talked about WORK!! None of us has a life I've decided.

Then, my daughter called me to talk to me. "Happy Birthday, Mommy!! I made you a castle cake!" I can hear babysitter in the background laughing at this point and I correctly surmise that this was supposed to be a surprise, but Short Person is just too excited to keep it one.

I replied, "You did? That's GREAT!"

"Yeah... but it looks funny." She sounded as though it were just a dire circumstance and I'm wondering if half of it fell down while at the same time assuring her that I would love it because she made it. Later, I thought that maybe it simply did not meet her expectations of what a castle cake ought to look like. It was a circular mold with turrets. Perhaps she thought it ought to have popped out looking like Cinderella's castle. A three-storied monstrosity.

"Okay, I gotta go... I'm putting flags on it!" The flags I later found out were candles.

When I went to pick her up, she presented me with the cake, a box she had painted in which pictures can be put in four frames on top and treasures can be stored in the container portion, and a card she had colored. She was so cute about it. I wish I had a camera recording everything.

My husband took me out to dinner. We chose the restaurant with the good Macaroni and Cheese so that short person would have a good time. He had earlier bought me a latte maker, so no gifts were present to unwrap, but he did take Short Person shopping.

LOL... they walked through the door and the first words out of her mouth were "Mommy! We bought you slippers!" My husband cracked up (as did I). Secrets are SO a thing of the past!

Overall, it was a good day. I've got no complaints... except that whole middle aged thing...

Le Toilette Memoir

I am willing to bet that when my high school speech teacher gave us an impromptu dissertation on why no one threw parties to celebrate new toilets he had not taken a recent trip to the porcelain laden aisles of Home Depot. Had he taken the trip, chances are he may have considered the purchase of a new toilet something party-worthy. After all, with names such as "Savoy", "Westminster", and "Devonshire" you'd certainly want to invite people over, for clearly they are something special.

As I walked down commode condo boulevard there was one porcelain hottie that had me raising my eyebrows... and not in the good way. The toilet was called "Memoir".

Okay folks, we need to have a talk. Maybe there is more wrong with me that just dorkiness mixed with a touch of insanity. Maybe, internally, I'm all f'd up too! Because to be quite frank with you, there ain't nothing going into that pot that I want to keep a Memoir of!

And just, pray tell, how in the HELL do they keep this Memoir? Is it digital? Dear God, would we see it on YouTube? Does it record sound? Does it computerize it? Or are you going to be sitting on the cold surface while a voice talks into a digital recorder. "September 28. Seven o'clock in the morning. Came out a little smoother than usual, but had a freaky green color to it. Press button 2 if you ate spinach last night..."

Ew! Ew! Ew!

While at work I voiced a similar concern with regard to this one and I learned that Japan apparently has talking toilets and toilets that sing to you and toilets that spray a nice scent in the air and on and on. So I'm thinking to myself that it is not that long away that we have toilets that record data for doctors or if you're just... weird. But me?! I avoided the toilet like it was the plague. Me? I got the one that said "Consumer Reports rated best buy."

But I was longing for the Devonshire.... Unfortunately, my butt decided it as too pretty to actually put such icky stuff in it. LOL...

Flies Are Dumb

I always thought flies were smart because they always know just where to land on your food to make inedible.

And they always know the most inappropriate time to buzz around your head.

AND, they are quite the accomplished deceivers... but that's another story.

I have a fly above my head right now that is trying to get to the light. I figure he either thinks he's dead and needs to "go to the light" or he's just dumb. Either way, he keeps crashing into the plastic light shield thing. Tap, tap, tap, tap...

WHY WON'T HE LEARN?!

I suppose that there may be a sentiment that I am not giving this fly enough credit. Maybe he is smart. Maybe he does know what he's doing. Maybe... just maybe... one of those other flies up there that are laying lifeless against the plastic is his long-lost brother Ed and he is just trying to get to him. And the tap, tap, tap, is one of frustration.

Perhaps, if I had a fly swatter, the humane thing to do would be to send him to meet Ed.

BECAUSE HE IS MAKING ME CRAZY!!!

TAP TAP TAP TAP TAP

Damn it, I suddenly feel like I'm getting ready to recite The Raven

"... and he came a tapping above my office floor..."