September 3, 2009
So yesterday was my birthday. I turned old. Let’s not talk about it.
But let’s do talk about my wonderful friends. They took me out to dinner and then we came back and had chocolate/peanut butter ice cream cake, which could not have been any tastier. And they all got me really wonderful gifts. I was given gift cards to The Gap, Banana Republic and White House Black Market. I am hoping to get this darling little dress with that sweet gift card action.
Also, I am quite prepared to be a world-class chef! I got a cute new red baking dish, a red serving platter (I like red), a promise of the new Pioneer Woman cookbook when it comes out next month, and a Jewish cookbook! I will be making cheese blintzes and challah bread galore.
Speaking of Jews, I also received a Jewish calendar and a darling retro children’s book about Israel. (Apparently my friends have just decided to accept my neurosis and go with it.)
I was also given a framed photo of Chip the Chipmunk so that he can live on in my heart. And I received some beautiful roses at work. And also, I got this spoon.
Isn’t it … neat? Guess what you can’t see? The fact that if you turn it around, it has a butt crack. I am very sorry for the graphic language, but I am also very sorry that I received such a graphic mixing spoon complete with arms, legs, a belly button and, oh, did I mention that it has a butt crack? I mean, what do you do? I thought you should share in my horror joy … for the great gift … thanks, Alecia!
Anyway, I have great friends and I so appreciated being able to spend my birthday with them.
My fantasy football draft is tonight. I’ve done it for quite a few years with my former co-workers at the Focus Leadership Institute. Every year I pretend like I’m going to research players and stats beforehand, and every year I arrive at the draft and end up asking something like, “Is Adrien Brody a good choice for a running forward this year?” Should be fun times.
In other news, I am embarrassed by my life yet again. I was in a doctor’s office recently, and I brought book six of the Harry Potter series to read while I was waiting. It is an excellent book and I know a bazillion adults who would say the same. So, overall, I’m pretty comfortable with my decision to love Harry Potter books because they are well-written and interesting and not just for children, OK?
So, anyhoo, I was busy traveling through the pensieve with Harry and Dumbledore when a boy and his mother walked into the doctor’s office. This boy was the tiniest of tiny boys — blond and darling and tiny. He and his mother sat down to wait for their appointment. Tiny boy, knowing he had to wait, grabbed the reading material he had brought with him. Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire…
He opened the book with his tiny, little child hands and began reading with his tiny, little child eyes. I stared at him with my giant adult eyes, and with my giant adult hands desperately trying to hide the cover of my Harry Potter book. Tiny boy and I read on, both lost in the magic and mystery of Hogwarts.
Embarrassed. By. My. Life.
Well, I must be off, friends. I’ve got birthday thank-yous to write and tiny children to meet for book club. Have a fantabulous day!