Happy Birthday to Me!

Yay! it's ma birfday! I'm gonna drink bacardi like it's my birthday!

Actually, I'm probably going to go home, eat dinner, watch the Amazing Race, and fall asleep hopefully early like it's my birthday, because bacardi is pretty gross and I am pretty old.

My sweet sweetie of a husband stopped by my office on his way from point A to point Q to bring me a bunch of daisies, my fave bloom. He's so frickin awesome, it makes me tear up. I put them on my desk right next to a picture of my 9 mo-old nephlet, who now looks like he's babygrinning through dense foliage. It's beautiful.

My boss took me out to lunch at Z'Tejas downtown, which was nice. I wanted to get a margarita, but didn't, because think of the children and the bad example! When I got back, there was a really pretty bouquet of a dozen roses on my desk from my friend the receptionista, who is a real peach of a dame.

Various people have been coming by to wish me a happy birthday, since it was posted on the company intranet. It's very thoughtful of them, but I just feel so awkward -- I mean, it's not like I did anything of note, just got born 26 years ago today. It's not even a fun birthday -- nothing you can do at 26 that you can't at 25.

Why am I being all bitchy and sourmopeypuss? It really is nice for these people to wish me well... a year ago, temping, nobody knew or gave two rat's asses whether it was my birthday or not. So this really is a nice change.

Thanks, everyone!