Tuesday, June 7, 2016
Today I am grateful for birthday surprises. Last night the birthday greetings started coming in. From Australia. Because it was already June 7th there. How cool is that? Then when Himself got up to go where even the Queen must go on foot, he leaned over and mumbled “Happy Birthday, Babe.” It might have been 2 a.m. I was asleep. Then not. But he was.
This morning there were cards and calls and posts from old friends from high school, friends I know from all over the world, local friends and friends I have not yet met and only know through Facebook. . . but they are all still friends.
I had a long, Mexican lunch with a friend. Nothing says friendship like swilling Margaritas at noon while sitting outside under cover, watching a storm come through. There was a gift, too, but the true gift was the “time” spent.
Happy birthday was sung by grandkids. . .some willing, sort of. . .some reluctant, but they sang anyway. Calls, texts, voice mail messages, and the unexpected garden bouquet dropped off by a friend and the yellow cake with butter cream frosting that Himself presented me with after a spaghetti and meatballs dinner.
I had a piece of that cake. Big. With a rose. It was so sweet. And fantastic. But even though I’m not interested in having more right now. . .I don’t know how I’m going to shut that cake up. It will probably wake me in the middle of the night. If Himself doesn’t.
Oh. . .and I had my car inspected, had the oil changed, got new shocks and four beautiful new tires. I wish I could put hooks in them and wear them as earrings. Another little birthday surprise for me. . .and my credit card! Whooppeee!