The One with the Bright Light and the Helium Balloon

Birthday cards are funny things, aren't they?  We go to a store, pick out a folded piece of paper with someone else's sentiment written on it, pay $3.95 for it and hand it to the birthday boy/girl at dinner.  Bizarre waste of money in my opinion, unless of course, you get a laugh. 

My mom picks out cards for me she thinks are funny, then gives them to me UNSIGNED so I can pass them on to someone else.  I love it.  Cracks. Me. Up.  The one she gave me last year said, 

(on the front)

"Another birthday?  Hey, look on the bright side....

(interior) 

Okay, there is no bright side.

There is, however, a bright light, but you're gonna want to stay away from that." 

This morning I received an early birthday card in the mail, signed by SEVERAL lovely people, but the treat to this card was the sonnet, written just for me, by my favorite Kayla (a fun, smart, quirky teenager I'm privileged to know).  It went something like this:

"Ode to Birthdays"

 

Birthdays extend across the calendar

They are like helium balloons

Rising higher and higher with age

The flames of life burning bright!

The sandbags drop, much like gravity in old age

But you...

You are ageless and wonderful

You sail high with age, but do not deflate!

Your sarcastic hot air keeps you young!

Let your spirit rise with age

And stay young with your humor

And when the height of your age can no longer be measured

Let yourself float and sail with the wind

And be joyful.

 Because you're pretty fabulous.

 

 

Yeah.  This has all the makings of an outstanding day.  I'm going to put on some sparkly shoes and go out and enjoy it.  Happy early Birthday to me.  

 

The One with the 50-Yard-Line

It had been a particularly icky day.  I was chatting with two of my besties about it, when one of them suggested I just go to bed and have sweet dreams.

"I don't dream," I told her.

And I don't.  I mean, hardly ever.  On the rare occasions I do, my dreams are anxious, unhappy, desperate... definitely not sweet, and waking up is usually a relief.  But mostly, as in 97% of the time, I just don't dream.

This friend, however, dreams elaborate fantasies... castle dwelling, nice dinners with friends, theme park vacations, etc.  Fun stuff.  She says she is always a little bummed to wake up to the reality that is her life, and I think she was rather taken aback that I don't experience the same nighttime escapes.

But that very night, after our conversation, I had a dream, and the next day I informed her of such. 

"You DID???" she replied excitedly, "I prayed that you would dream!!!  What did you dream about?"

"I dreamed there was a football field." 

"AND???"

"That's it.  I dreamed there was a football field."

"Bother."

The One Where I Just Wasn't in the Mood

So, it was one of those "I'm in a funk and just don't feel like working today" days.   I had been chatting with Kacey the better part of the afternoon as a distraction, when finally she told me I had been completely unproductive and needed to get to work.  I said, "I have NOT been completely unproductive.  I cried earlier today AND I posted a picture to facebook." 

She said, "That doesn't count.  I'm talking methodical, calculated, non-emotional WORK."

And I replied, "But I don't want to have sex."

She laughed.  A LOT.

The One Where We are Indecisive

So, it was a Wednesday at 4:32, and Sara texted, "What are you doing for dinner?"

              eating food

:p
What are you PLANNING for dinner?
            nothing yet, you?
Trying to see what my husband is doing and then what you were doing
             well, I already told you, I'm eating food.  

haha

              what do you want to eat?
Dinner.  You name where.  My house or elsewhere.
               where.
Grrrr.  I HATE this part.
               grrrr. Me too.
Give me 3 choices.
               What SOUNDS good?
Food.  :)
               You're no help.  

Do we stay on this side of town?

               No, we have time for whatever.
Anything then.  Pizza. Mexican. Asian.
A.g.RddfchXekdjdjncjz  (Her toddler got the phone)
Panera.  Tribeca.  You name an alternative.
               I don't have an alternative. 
I couldn't think of other options either.
               Tribeca.
That sounds great.
Time?
               5:30
It's 5:30 now.
             Then NOW. 

Ok.  Meet there?

               I'll meet you at Walgreens and we'll ride together from there?
Yes!
             Sara, we made a decision and it only took us 34 texts and 58 minutes!
Go us!
               I know.  We rock.

The One with the Small Print

So we were in this restaurant... great food, dim lighting, menu with entrees listed in 8-pt. font.  At least, that's my best guess, as all I can see is something that looks like this.   I retrieve my 1.50 reading glasses from my purse, but they are not enough.  So I unzip the side pocket and get out my back-up pair of reading glasses and put them on ON TOP OF the other pair and hold my cell phone toward the menu as a faux flashlight just about the time the waiter arrived at the table. 

I now have an emergency pair of "dark restaurant, small-font menu, 2.5 strength, because-I-don't-want-to-be-embarrassed" reading glasses with me at all times.

The One Where Steph Changes Clothes

So, there was a tornado warning... lightning, wind, sirens, the works.  Usually I sit out on the front porch and enjoy the intensity of the storm, but this one seemed more ominous than most.  Thinking I might not want to pick today to learn to fly, I took refuge in the interior hall of the house.  Sitting there, cell phone in my pocket, looking down at my clothes... "If I'm left sitting here among the rubble, THIS is not what I want to be wearing."  So I went to the bedroom and changed shirts. 
 
Three times.

Just so you know, when they uncover me from the wreckage, I'll be wearing a royal blue henley.