Thursday, September 17, 2009

So I had a nice 46th birthday yesterday, even though I had to work 11.75 hours and my allergies were so awful at times I could barely see anything. After working at the Mission site, where the rock-hard dirt was rock hard and I have to watch that I don't whine about it too much, I put gas in the van and got home, showered, opened the presents I bought myself (Martha Stewart's Cupcake cookbook, a retro toaster, and a Smokey the Bear retro metal sign- sighs of schizoprenia!), Forrest drove me the Amrutha and Mark, Sandy, Zane, and Jeffrey arrived and we had great Indian food, albeit terrible service from the owner, who seems charming but disorganized.

Afterwards, we stopped briefly at the M/S/Z estate and then came home, where Forrest wanted to watch a National Geographic-type special about early civilizations in which I learned that people smeared white mud on their faces and lived soap opera-esque lives. I went to sleep feeling that 46 was no different than 45, and perhaps that was alright, although some things have got to change.

Thank you to everyone who left nice birthday wishes, I appreciated each one.

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