HI THERE! Did you MISS ME?
Well. I have been without Internet access for a MONTH now. No, REALLY. As a friend of mine commented (three weeks ago) when I told her about the lack of WWWing in our house,
“Um, what? Isn’t that kind of like saying, ‘I’m currently without blood flow to the brain’? That’s not the sort of thing that can go ON. DEAL WITH THAT.”
Well, yes. And tomorrow the pretty, pretty cable people come to our house and hook us up to the world again. I am agog at the idea of regaining contact with all of you out there. OH, blogs and comments and email, OH MY!
Heh. If they can get through all the SNOW, which is RELENTLESS out there. They’re predicting 10 inches or MORE. Of course. Because it is, after all, the first day of spring, the eve of the return of the internet, and oh yeah, my birthday. Today I am THIRTY FIVE YEARS OLD, and yes that was me shouting, wanna make something of it?
You know, I’ve never hit a birthday that bothered me…
Thirty five…I don’t know. It stings a little, you know? It started six months ago, on Dad’s birthday. I was puttering around in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on his birthday cake (which was a dark chocolate torte that was LOVELY and would make you wish you were my father, OH MY, it was so good, yes I am modest thank you). Now, Dad’s birthday is September 20th, exactly six months from mine. Ever since I was a wee bitty girl I’ve felt very cool and connected to my daddy by the fact that his birthday was on my half birthday. Careful readers will note that I’ve been able to make any occasion be ALL ABOUT ME since I was a wee bitty girl. Anyhow.
On this September 20th in particular, I was buzzing about with dark chocolate, toasted almond, and whipping cream (so good, I’m telling you), when it hit me. I stopped dead still in the middle of the kitchen and gasped,
“I’m going to be THIRTY FIVE in six months. THIRTY FIVE. OH MY LORD.”
It just seems…um…unexpectedly old. I don’t know how it could really be unexpected, I mean, I should have noticed the trend a long time ago, and deduced where it was leading. You know, age 22 followed a year later by age 23, and so on. But there you have it. I am THIRTY FIVE.
Last night I whined to Clay a little about getting ooooolld and asked a few baldly leading and annoying questions like, “Will you still LOVE ME when I’m THIRTY FIVE?” – as though there were ANY answer to that except the right one.
Clay took me in his arms and kissed me thoroughly, and whispered, “You may be turning THIRTY FIVE, but remember, no matter how old you get…I’ll always be older than you.”
He says the sweetest things, doesn’t he?
So there you go! Wish me a happy birthday, tell me something to make THIRTY FIVE seem young and vibrant and sexy, and join with me in the fervent hope that tomorrow I will be returning to regular blogging.