They Say It's Your Birthday, We're Gonna Have a Good Time

Jan_BirthdayMy mom celebrated her 84th birthday this week. When she came out for breakfast, I said to her, "Do you know what day this is?" And she replied, "Christmas Eve?" Well, I guess it could be Christmas Eve in South Florida with a blue cloudless sky and 62 degrees at 8 am, I'll grant her that.

While we ate breakfast, she shared her observations of my front lawn. It must be a mash-up between the Little Friskies cat food commercials and the summer training grounds for the Barnum and Bailey Circus. I can only begin to imagine the butterflies, birds, and heady human activity going on there. The neighbors are skiing on the roof with hats that puff smoke. A bird that looks like a fish is driving a motorized car. Everyone, just everyone, is golfing. And the children swarm like a termite invasion, and of course they all carry insurance cards.

My lovely niece in New York sent her a birthday present. I shopped for an appropriate thank-you note, addressed it and stamped it, and gave it to Mom to write inside. When she returned it to me, there were two envelopes; the first one was the one I prepared for her and the second was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Debbie Jones (my niece, she got that right), which she had prepared herself. After I corrected the address, I peeked inside to see what she was sending. It was a birthday card with a strange cryptic message and a pantyliner.

You know why it's heartbreaking and hilarious at the same time?

It wasn't my niece's birthday. And I'm sure Mr. Jones appreciated the thoughtful gift.

I'm Glad It's Your Birthday. Happy Birthday to You.

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