Squirrel is Sleepy
It's my birthday today - and I had a lovely day - but now I'm sleepy.
My birthdays get simpler and simpler every year. Today I found joy in the small things: talking to old friends I ran into, finally washing the bug guts off my car before winter sets in, teasing my son about the size of his bison burger at dinner in relation to the size of his mouth, treating myself to store-bought lunch AND dinner, wearing sparkly costume jewelry. At breakfast, Jimbo and Sprout put a candle in a mango for me, and sang Happy Birthday. At work, a France-french woman who comes to see me - with reference questions, but sometimes simply to tell me how she did recently at boules - gave me kisses on both cheeks when she heard which day it was.
It was a very nice, simple day.
Now, all that being said, I am once again instituting Birthday Week, which stretches the revelries in both directions. In my near future, there will still have to be shopping, and waffle breakfast, and sleeping in, and some serious goofing off.
Tomorrow I could tell you about the convent. Or about my new tattoo. But I can't tell you about the hairy hug, which is a story that should never be written down (bad karma).