Saturday, July 17, 2010

Bellinis and Bookstores and Blow-Dries. . .OH MY!

I'm turning 42, I think I'm turning 42, I really think so. . . .

I had the best day.  I have to admit, I didn't think I was going to.  In fact, I had kind of geared myself up NOT to.  Adam and Jono are out of town, so many friends are out-of-town, Abby had a 6-hour rehearsal. . . where was this birthday going to go?

But starting yesterday, it went in all the right places.

I was getting my hair cut and highlighted (I think it was a full highlight; if it was a partial, Jack didn't tell me, because he knows I don't like to have any hair processes done half-way.  Why drive all the way to Chagrin Falls for a partial anything??)  So anyway, a free blow-dry for my birthday.  That's good stuff.  And good hair, I might add.  Which, of course, just inspires me to buy product on my way out the door.  Smart Jack.

Jack, who asked me on my way out the door, "So what are you doing for your birthday?"
To which I answered, "Nothing, really.  And it doesn't matter.  It's okay."
He stopped flat-ironing and looked at me.  "I know you better than that.  That is not okay."


And then, when I arrived home, a Barnes-and-Noble gift card waiting in the mail from my parents.  It's like relaxation in a card.  The promise of trolling a book store, looking at all the books, magazines, stationary, pens, reference materials. . . birthday heaven.   And two musical cards from dear friends.  One made me cry, the other made me laugh out loud.  Things were looking up, way up. . .

Abby brought me a little paper bag late in the evening.  It was a bead for my bracelet that she had bought at the Hudson sidewalk sale.  "I know you like blue and white, and there's a little red in your bracelet.  I didn't want to wait until tomorrow."

Oh, me either.

But tomorrow came.  Which is, to say, today.  And here it how it went.

I wake to Lisa calling at 8:21 am.
"You weren't supposed to answer!" she yells.
"But you called me," I yawn.
"I just wanted to sing my birthday song," she said.  Which she does.  And we have a lovely chat.


A giant, giant, GIANT hydrangea bush is soon delivered to my front door from Adam and Jono.  My favorite.  With a butterfly adornment-- another favorite.  From my favorite boys <3

Cindy tells me to drop Abby at rehearsal and come at noon, to drop Sam.  He will spend the day with her son, Ethan and her husband.  They will go to a movie and lunch.   And suddenly we are off and running. . .

*Diet cokes and french fries for brunch.  Oh, this is going well.
*Crocker park for strolling and shopping.  Too good to be true on a sunshine-y day.
*A new ruffled, sparkly cardigan from J. Crew.  On sale.  Ruffles.  Sparkle.  CARDIGAN.
C'mon. . . have you met me?
*A sparkly headband.   It's almost like a tiara, only a little bit more subtle.  Like me.
*Drinks and appetizer at Brio.  With a waiter named Donovan who brings surprise frozen Bellinis and a    surprise chocolate dessert.  We might have mentioned my birthday once.  Or twice.  . .
*Presents in the car from Cindy that make me smile and cry.
*A stop at TJ Maxx on the way home.  Sparkly flip flops for $6.  Is there a theme to this day?
*Dunkin' Donuts to get breakfast for the kids tomorrow.  We might eat them in the car.  We might not.  This is a birthday secret.  Why doesn't Dunkin' Donuts have diet Coke?  Why do we have to go to McDonald's next door?  Because we do.  It's my birthday.

There are 10,000 Facebook messages on my page.  I love them all.  I might be exaggerating, but it's my birthday.  And that's what it felt like.  Abundance.

I miss my boys, my family, Lisa, and having a party with a theme.  I look forward to lunch next week, to cake, to more presents (can't help it; it's true.)

But this day was everything I needed today.  I like 42.  It feels very me.

1 comment:

  1. Phyllis from FacebookJuly 19, 2010 at 3:15 PM

    Sounds like you had a divine birthday. Happy, happy! I love the parts about where you dined. I turn 43 this year. So soon! Where did the year go? To console myself, I'll be stuffing my face with pasta in Italy. Sigh.

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