everyone say happy birthday to my mom
It's today, and she's...not 32. When someone asks her age she always says "32" but since
I just turned 32 ten days ago, she has to own up to her real age. Which, dear Internets, is
fifty-three.
Today's birthday is kinda crappy for her though—her friend (and one-time commenter to my blog, way back in the beginning of it) Evie died today. She was eighty-something, and had been in a bad way for the last six or eight months (cancers). They were golfing buddies from the olden days, and Evie was just a generally nice lady...much nicer/smarter/saner than either of my grandmothers...so my mom liked hanging out with her, was a trusted friend with regards to things-related-to-dying, etc. Her death today wasn't a shock, but it's still a sucky way to spend a birthday.
I did my part by re-gifting to my mom some wacky thing she sent to me for christmas. When I got
this Snowbabies collectible in the mail I honestly and truly thought it was either a joke or a mistake, and when I called to say "what the fuck?" it became obvious that it was neither a joke nor a mistake. So I asked my mom just which of my personality traits prompted her to think that Snowbabies collectibles were right for me,
so I could change it! She has subsequently told this story to friends of hers who also found it funny, and was quite pleased when I told her "no worries, I'll just re-gift it to you for your birthday"...and that I did.
