My Birthday Week–Fun, Frivolity, Madness & Sir Paul

My Birthday Week–Fun, Frivolity, Madness & Sir Paul

From an ant infestation on Sunday to Sir Paul McCartney eight days later, my birthday week ended with a bang and a whole lotta cashola spent.

Why a “Birthday Week” and not just a day, you might ask?

Because one day won’t do, no sir! You gotta have an entire week to celebrate with mirth and merriment! Here’s how the eight days went down:

Sunday: Attack of the ants. Continue reading

Happy Birthday, Mama

Happy Birthday, Mama

Happy 90th, Mama.
I wasn’t ready for you to go. None of us were. But the hard part–and it was achingly, stabbing-pain hard–was that by the time you died you were already gone. Alzheimer’s had stolen your memory, your thoughts and your good sense, leaving you vacantly confused, and the light in you snuffed out. Continue reading

It’s My Birthday, Bitches!

The Lips Bar where the Mimosas and Bloody Marys pour freely.

Yesterday was my birthday, and to celebrate I thought I’d try something fun and exciting.

After all, when the kids have flown the coop, and all that’s left in your empty nest is you and a dog that thinks he descends from royalty—which, I might add, is his Number One excuse for not having to take out the trash—it’s time to pull out all the stops!

Thankfully, I work with the most amazing group of smart and savvy women. And, if you ask me, we’re not just working together, we’re having fun!  It’s nonstop merriment and mayhem. For, even the most mundane of tasks can be made all the more fascinating because of them.

Yes, I adore them all!  (And, Jack, if you’re reading this, this goes for you, too. 😉 After all, you’re a terrific assistant!)

Which is why, a few of us got together and headed over to Lips for a dining and show experience that was out of this world!

We’re talking Drag Queens, bitches!

Oh, yes, these gals call everyone bitches–and, it’s a badge of honor when it’s directed to you! They also keep the innuendos flying, never missing a beat.

On Sundays, they offer their World Famous Gospel Brunch, hosted by “Sister Nun-of-the-Above,” who bares a close resemblance to Cher. But, believe you me, there’s nothing religious about this brunch—though they do take up a collection for the “drag queen orphans.”

See for yourself, all the fun we had:

From Left: Suzanne, Clare and her sister, Hannah, me and Ashley.

Isn’t this the greatest group of gals you ever saw? Present company excluded, of course. Clockwise from left: Hannah, Ashley, Suzanne, Ana, Me, Susan, Trisha and Val.

 

Sister None-of-the-Above got us all going with the rousing Drag Queen anthem, “We Are Family.”

The hits kept coming, thanks to these hot mamas!

From Left: Ana, Susan, Trisha and Val. Trisha organized the whole celebration. You are awesome, Trish!

And a fun time was had by all! Thanks, Bitches, for making my day!

Must Be My Birthday!

Call me crazy, call me out to lunch, but I have a feeling my birthday’s approaching. Maybe it’s nothing more than a hunch. Or it could be nothing more than intuition. On the other hand, I might have a sixth sense! Where’s Bruce Willis when you need him?

Well, whatever it is, I suspect it’s true, because the birthday cards have started to roll in.

And, I just love getting pretty, colorful birthday cards, don’t you? Especially the kind that wish me a very happy day, with many happy returns. And though, I’ve yet to figure out exactly what “many happy returns” actually means, I’m pleased as punch, all the same.

But, if truth be known, these cards aren’t from family, friends, or even acquaintances. No, these birthday cards are from my neighborhood retailers, from the shops where I do business.

After all, we have an understanding. I shop and make purchases, and, in return, they take my money. Oh, and once a year, they show their appreciation, for all my wonderful business, by sending me a birthday card.

I guess they figure I shop there so often, we’re more like pals. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Clearly, they must care about me very much, don’t you think? I’m sure they don’t send these lovely cards to just anyone. Particularly not cards that come with gifts.

Oh, didn’t I mention the gifts?

My local Hallmark store sent me a “little something” with a card that had the nicest message:

“Hope your birthday is special from beginning to end. Happily celebrating another year of you.”

Hallmark sure knows how to capture the feelings of the day, which isn’t surprising. They’re the experts when it comes to greeting cards.  And, the enclosed gift was just as special–

$2 off any purchase of $10 or more!

Does it get any better than this??

Victoria Secret also sent me a birthday card, and a coupon entitling me to $10 off anything in their store. Which is great news, indeed, because now I can get my annual pair of birthday underwear!

And, Starbucks must think I could use a pick-me-up. They sent me a postcard and all I need do is bring it in for a coffee of my choice! What will it be? Java Mocha Chip Frappuccino or a Caramel Latte? Hmm…

Even the airline I travel on has gotten in on the action. They sent me a card festooned with brightly colored balloons that coincidentally matches their logo—and the card is signed by the entire crew! Too bad they didn’t think to include a free round-trip flight to anywhere in the world. That would’ve been way too cool.

My car dealership didn’t send me a card, but this morning I did get an email, wishing me a happy birthday in all CAPS and two exclamation points, thank you very much.

But, no free car. Not even a new set of tires. Oh, bother.

Seems to me, if these merchants think enough of me to remember my birthday, the least I can do is have them over for dinner. Maybe we’ll go see a movie, too, and I’ll use the coupon I received, for a free small popcorn, from the local movie theater. Just me and my retailer pals, painting the town red, assuming I remember to bring the quart-size can of paint my local hardware store sent me.  We can also go to the nearby takeout shop for a free order of Cream Cheese Wontons, followed by a complimentary dessert at the organic restaurant near my office.

Oh, the possibilities!

If you ask me, I have THE most thoughtful retailers in the whole wide world! And to think, all I had to do was shop, shop, shop and say, “Charge it, please!”

So tell me, what goodies have you received for your birthday from your usual shopping haunts?

Dear Daughter

Another birthday, already?  How many times have I told you to stop these foolish shenanigans? Do I need to get a lawyer to make you cease and desist from throwing it in my face—the fact that you’re getting older? Think of all the times I begged you to be my little girl again. I don’t think that was too much to ask. Unrealistic, maybe, but miracles have been known to happen.

So yes, I know, this weekend is your birthday.  How can I forget, what with all I went through? Nine months of back pain, swollen ankles, heartburn, and elevated blood pressure. I suffered it all, and what do I have to show for it?

There you are, happily romping in the snow with your friend.

A 20-year old who’s off gallivanting somewhere far from home. Ok, so you’re in college. Dean’s List, too.  But did I ask you to go 2,000 miles away? Ok, so I did encourage you, but that was in the excitement of the moment when you were first notified that you’d been accepted at your dream school. We hugged and did a joyful dance. And yes, I did say, “Go, send in your acceptance!” But the next thing I knew, there you were, packing your bags and saying, ”So long, Mom” without batting an eye.

Twenty years old. The years have skipped by in a blur. One minute I’m cradling you in my arms and the next, you’re four, dancing in a ballet recital. Then, you’re 8 and going on your first Girl Scout camping trip. You’re 13 and preparing for your Bat Mitzvah. And now here you are, a sophomore in college, leaving me with only one thought:

When it comes to daughters, I couldn’t have done better than you.

So, Birthday Girl, I want to thank you for sparing me the grief other mothers of teenage girls so often go through. For regularly texting to let me know how you’re doing in school. For calling me when your work shift ends late at night, so I can keep you company on your walk back to your dorm. For all the love you’ve given me throughout these years. For enjoying my company as much as I enjoy yours. For being the caring, thoughtful daughter you’ve turned out to be. I know what you mean to me, and what I mean to you.

You left me verklempt recently, when you commented for the first time on this blog. It was regarding a post I wrote titled, If I Could Do it All Again. In it, I said I would have hugged my children more often when they were young, when they still loved hugging back.  You responded in a way that left me speechless:

“You got one thing wrong though, Mom…I STILL love hugging you back. In fact, I wish I could fly home right now just to get one of those amazing hugs that only you can give me.”

Well, Spring Break is already on the horizon and I’ll be seeing you soon, ready to hug you once more. Until then, when I think of you, I’ll be remembering the Martina McBride song that poignantly touches on how you make me feel:

In my daughter’s eyes I am a hero
I am strong and wise and I know no fear
But the truth is plain to see
She was sent to rescue me
I see who I want to be
In my daughter’s eyes…”

Happy Birthday, B.B.!