What if now that I'm 45 I'll be all mature and deep and stuff?
What did Mr. Spock find in the toilet? The Captain's log.
See. Still funny to me. I guess I have not matured yet.
So my birthday was excellent. Did you know that every year I take a picture of myself on my birthday, because I could not possibly be more self-involved, and I have a photo album dedicated to just me-on-my-birthday pictures? I went back to old blog posts from birthdays past and cannot find incidences of me in old birthdays, but I know I have showed you those pictures before. Irks me. Anyway, I took yesterday's birthday photo.
Also, that bowl on the porch might be from a cat I might be feeding in the neighborhood, who might look just like Henry only beefy and big. One night he was staring at me through our window, and I thought, Why is Henry looking at me through the window? Why is Henry really big? And finally I figured it out. Said doppelganger cat is really friendly and the other night he tried to walk right into our house, only to see Tallulah in there, who was in the middle of eating Marvin's Rice Krispy Treat wrapper.
They both froze in place–the cat in the doorway, Talu with the wrapper hanging out her mouth. It was not her intimidatingest moment. Nevertheless, the orange Henry doppleganger left in a hurry. I think he belongs somewhere because he's huge, but just in case…
I tried for another shot of Lu and me, and welcome to the roof of my dog's mouth. Checking for stalactites!
I am using this one, despite the 87 eye wrinkles. Girlfriend is 45. Who are we kidding? Of course I have 87 eye wrinkles.
In other birthday news, Marvin brought me breakfast in bed and sent me flowers at work. He is a nice boy.
My cousin Katie made me this sunny apron with her very own hands. I have no idea why the stupid picture has stripes in it. Maybe it's Fruit Stripe film.
My Pal From MA, who is a faithful reader and also my oldest pal, sent me this nicely wrapped gift and I photographed the niceness, but see, I am so blind that this looked IN FOCUS when I looked in the little square on my camera. Then when I put it on the computer, hello. Have I mentioned I'm 45?
Inside the nicely wrapped package were these cute pig soaps. And I am totally being my grandmother now, because I put them in my etigerre/shelf/egg salad thingie in the bathroom, thinking, These are too nice to use. Get me my Emeraude, I'm going to my Eastern Star meeting now.
I passed one of those terrible trucks the other day, where they are carrying live animals to go to some slaughterhouse, and this truck had BABY PIGS on it. BABY PIGS. Why? What were they doing with baby pigs? And when I looked in at them? One of them squealed at me. It was everything I could do to not jacknife that truck and somehow unlatch that thing and let them all free. Onto the highway. That would have been a sensible solution.
From my stepsister, I got this notepad with a sparkly Eiffel Tower on it. Everyone knows that with me, if you give me something Eiffel Tower-y, you cannot go wrong. If it sparkles? Even better.
She also found me this cool old container at an antique shop. Also in the etigerre/bathroom shelf/egg salad thingie.
I got many other gifts, but this was all I photographed. Also, I forgot to listen for the click. AGAIN. 45th year in a row. Or almost. When I was just a little kid, my grandmother told me that if I was really quiet, at the exact minute I was born on my birthday, you can hear the number click over in your head. In retrospect, she probably just wanted me to shut.the.eff.up because I was probably being screechy on my birthday, but do you know I have had EVERY INTENTION of listening for the click every year, and EVERY YEAR I forget? This year at work I even said, "In eight minutes it's time for me to listen for the click" and then I forgot. Because they had a cocktail party yesterday afternoon. At work. I am not making that up.
I had a pomegranate juice mixed with Sprite, which let me tell you is delicious, if you are looking for something tasty and pink and you don't want to get drunk. And you want to forget your click. Dammit.
Well, maybe next year. Oh, and thanks for your bday wishes! Oh! And comment of the week goes to Tracey for her Jack-and-Diane-related birthday wish yesterday, and special shout to Kerrin for her memory of every second of my blog. Killing me. Not as much as the Captain's Log, but still.