Edit: The first version of this post had super-tiny text and weird margins. So I had to re-do all the code stuff. I’m absolving myself of any blame if it’s a stinky post.
My birthday weekend is going totally awesomely so far. I’m loving every minute of it. EVERY DANG MINUTE.
Weekends begin on Friday. On this one, I woke up incredibly early to drive with some of my lady friends to the next town over, about 80 miles away, for a haircut from a highly recommended stylist. I was in desperate need of a new do, as a week looking at Evelyn’s serviceable-only cut left me feeling uninspired.
Three other gals all hopped in the super-orange Element and we chatted, sang, and laughed the early-morning away. The sun rose over the southern plains as we sped along. More than once I wished for an instant brain camera, so the fusion of colors and the lighthearted chatter could have been shared. But this picture will have to do.
All four women left the salon incredibly happy. Which is, I think we can all agree, simply unfathomable. I’ve found my new stylist.
Of course, after a harrowing morning of waiting in a salon, and the grueling task of working our way through countless entertainment magazines, we were famished. We tried a highly recommended local restaurant. The stars of the lunchtime show were the fried green beans (though the fried corn kernels and the fried okra both get honorable mentions — those folk know how to fry a vegetable), which we inhaled before the server walked away. There may have been a fight over the last one…
…while the health conscious gals illustrated the kind of fiendishly addictive hold that first bite of fried green bean has on you.
I had an hour or two to gather my thoughts after we got back to our little city. Book-club night was also on Friday, and I was the moderator, which meant I had picked the book:
And I had to come up with all the questions for the group. AND I had to not interrupt everyone else since I had been able to mull over the questions for days, and I had to keep the conversation from straying too far, and I had to edit the questions as I went to avoid redundancy, and there was only an hour and a half for ten women to deconstruct all the intricacies of a fairly complex book.
I’d say it went pretty well.
Know what else? The ladies executed a little birthday soiree for me. When I walked into the hostess’ house (she hosted, I moderated), there were streamers and balloons. And cupcakes with candles. And they all sang “Happy Birthday” to me! The last birthday celebration my friends threw for me was back in high school when I spent all of November and December telling anyone who would listen when my birthday was and then managing to somehow work in the fact that I had never had a surprise birthday party. So they threw a party for me, but the guilt had kicked in at that point, and I just felt like a jerk for the whole thing.
I did NOT feel like a jerk during this one. I felt delighted and touched. And well-liked, which is a fabulous feeling. Thanks, ladies. That was freaking sweet.
AAAAND guess where I’m writing this from? NOT holed up in the spare room. I’m writing from the living room. Where my birthday present is sitting, streaming www and dot-com into my face in all it’s gloriousness. Why yes, this is a laptop. Why yes, my fabulous husband did buy it for me. Why yes, it IS fantastic.
But not as fantastic as Hubs.
“We’re never going to see you again.” -my friend Botti