I had a birthday in November. Now I’m 36. To celebrate entering my late thirties, I grew more wrinkles, morphed the skin under my eyes into a fetching taupey-red-bruised color, made the tinted skin puffy, gained another 10 pounds, yellowed up my teeth, and highlighted my bangs with gray hairs. I look stunning. When people meet me, they are always shocked that I’m 36.
They usually think I’m much older.
It was a fabulous birthday. Michael had to work so Eva and I hung around doing our regular daily activities. I baked my favorite German chocolate cake with pecan-coconut frosting and refused to do any housework. At various times throughout the day Eva would shout, “Happy birthday, Mama! It’s your birthday!” That was the best part of the entire day.
Michael was a superstar and made the evening special. Thanks to a gift card from my dad, we went to dinner at the Outback. My steak was perfect and even though Eva kept going underneath the table, I ignored her and didn’t let it dampen my birthday buzz. After dinner we had cake and presents. I love presents.
Eva thought she should blow out the candles and open the presents even though it was my birthday. I calmly read to her from the Handbook of Life what the proper protocol is when attending someone else's birthday party. In summary, it says that you should back off and mind your own business. And bring an extravagant gift. She didn’t appreciate or heed the advice.
Michael bought me a deep fryer. He’s aiding me in my goal to weigh more than a 3/4 ton pickup before I turn 40. Actually, it was a very thoughtful gift. Every time I fry something I complain a lot about the mess and my thermometer. I’ve finally been rewarded for my grouching. Now what to complain about next…
He also bought me bath salts and a big party hat and a balloon. He did a good job.
My parents gave me money and Myke’s mom sent me lots of chocolate. Money and chocolate are always appreciated. I also received a lot of phone calls and texts. I felt very loved. And a little old. Mostly old.
After presents there was only one thing left: CAKE
This is the best reason to have a birthday.
I ate it for breakfast the next day. And lunch. And dinner. And every time I walked into the kitchen. Watch out 3/4 ton pickup. I'm on your heels.
Happy birthday to me!
That cake was a work of art..... like the little girl admiring the candle.
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