Sunday, November 13, 2005

The Birthday Song ...

This morning, I woke up with U2's "Beautiful Day" running through my head.

Today is the actual birthday.

Thursday and Friday were lunch-with-friends days, and Saturday saw the arrival of L.A. Dave's very cute card (no chance of getting a card in the mail when your birthday falls on Sunday) and mom's appearance on my doorstep with the most beautiful bouquet of flowers: White snapdragons, white roses, giant white lillies, feathery tree fern, and perfect purple iris, my favorite flower.

I put fresh sheets on my bed last night and hopped in performing my cousin Patty's annual birthday eve ritual (left foot first, turn pillow over, make a wish) and pulled the covers up, saying, "This is going to be the best year yet."

This morning, I logged onto the computer to find birthday wishes from Patty and Barbara, who sent an e-card, but who sent the same e-card that I always send when I send e-cards, so it was fun to be the getter this time, not the giver.

I brewed a pot of coffee and savored my hazelnut coffee goo, a little birthday treat.

To set the tone for the coming year, I puttered around the house and did a bit of straightening and cleaning. Then I put on my walkin' clothes, grabbed my CD player (no, I don't have an iPod yet, but I'm getting closer to buying one, once I decide which one to buy) and went for a walk.

On the return leg, I started to think about what song was at the top of the charts when I was born, so when I got home, I Googled for it. In the UK at this time in 1969, the No. 1 song was "Sugar Sugar" by the Archies. The No. 1 song in Chicago for this week was "Come Together/Something" by The Beatles.

Mom and Dad came over for the usual Sunday morning bagels and coffee. Later, mom and I did some antiquing before I headed over to their house for dinner.

Every year, I can have anything I want for dinner. Every year, I want mom's lasagne. My mother makes fabulous lasagne, which you'd expect, seeing as how she's, you know, Serbian.

And every year, mom asks what kind of cake I'd like. Every year, I want a white cake with lemon filling and whipped cream instead of frosting.

So Mom ordered it from the bakery a few days ago.

Tonight, she opened the box to show me my cake. And it read:

"Happy Beautiful Day."

5 Comments:

Anonymous Anonymous said...

For someone who doesn't like to "make a big deal" out of her birthday, you sure do mention it a lot.

9:24 AM  
Blogger Beth said...

Well, this was my first birthday with a blog. I blog about my life. My birthday is my life.

9:25 AM  
Blogger Dave said...

No, my mom makes fabulous lasagna, which is no surprise considering her rich heritage as an African-American from Tennessee ... :)

10:27 AM  
Blogger Jeff Hunter said...

Any day that ends with cake is my definition of a perfect day. Happy Bday.

2:13 PM  
Blogger Mohammad said...

Asalaam alaikum, KrAzY Momo here again. In Islam, birthdays are not considered `eid (a festival) like `Eidul-Fitr or `Eidul-Adha, because `eids have conditions and guidelines such as not being allowed to fast during the days of Eid. Therefore, birthdays are simply occasions of a person's date of birth and are a matter of culture. If a person wants to commemorate his/her date of birth, then he/she may do so, especially if he/she takes the opportunity to reflect on the past and pledge to be better during the following year. However, to make the birthday an important occasion is not recommended or encouraged. So in keeping with your earlier blog of making us muslims think not all americans are assholes, smile big when I tell you shut up about your birthday.

7:54 PM  

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