Category Archives: birthday

It’s my party and I’ll glare if I want to

I don’t like surprises.

I have NEVER liked surprises.

I know most people say that, but they’re really ok with them. Like, if they woke up and found that their spouse had bought them a new car with one of those ridiculous huge bows on it, like in the Christmas car commercials, or if they showed up at work and right before lunch their coworkers threw a gigantic surprise baby shower for them, they’d maybe shriek a little, but deep down they’d think “oh, my. Am I ever loved” and they’d be secretly so happy.

Me? Nope. I’d shriek a little, then I’d furiously rearrange my face into what I think would pass for happiness because that’s what’s expected, then I’d go through the motions of whatever was required, like package-opening or little-meatball-eating and such, and when it was all over and I could escape from that, I would probably shake like my own private earthquake and be SO SO ANGRY.

"Do you think they know I'm mad? Do I look happy? I do, right?"

“Do you think they know I’m mad? Do I look happy? I do, right?”

I wouldn’t be thinking I was super-loved. I’d be thinking “THESE PEOPLE DO NOT KNOW ME AT ALL.”

This all sounds very petulant, doesn’t it? Yeah. Sorry. Can’t help it. I don’t like surprises. I don’t like people leaping out at me, and I don’t like people assuming they know what I’d like (unless they know me really well, in which case, they’d know me well enough to know NOT to leap out of a dark corner and trigger my PTSD) and I don’t like things I couldn’t think around corners about. I know that all seems very not-able-to-roll-with-the-punches of me. I’m not the kind of person that can’t go on a spur-of-the-moment trip, or something. I just don’t like that people were talking and planning and scheming behind my back and coming up with something.

This is a very long intro for what I can only deem THE WORST BIRTHDAY OF MY LIFE.

I don’t know how old I was. I’m thinking probably 6 or 7. Yes, it was a long time ago. Yes, I should probably be over this by now. No, I’m not.

It wasn’t my actual birthday. The weekend before, is my thought. I’m guessing a Saturday.

A thing you have to know about young-Amy is: there was nothing, nothing, NOTHING I loved more than running errands with my dad.

Running errands with my mom was a dull affair. You’d go buy groceries and she NEVER let you get a candy bar. You’d end up at K-Mart having to try on terrible dresses that were on clearance FOR A REASON and she got so mad if you hid in the middle of the clothes racks. (I had such a thing about hiding in the middle of those circular clothing racks. It was like my secret wonderland. Yeah, I don’t know, either.) You’d run into friends of hers and have to stand there and they’d talk about the MOST BORING THINGS. Like, clothes-shopping and grocery-shopping. WE JUST DID THAT. Can we go HOME now?

But! Running errands with Dad was the best best BEST. We went to the coolest places ever. Like NAPA Auto Parts which smelled like motor oil and had a gumball machine that he always gave me pennies for and the guys working there were always nice and funny and would cuss sometimes and say, “Sorry, kiddo!” Or to go buy a new car and we’d have to wear our old clothes and “act poor” so the guy would give us the lowest price. Or – possibly best – just driving around looking at things and and he’d tell me stories like “this is the bridge that your uncle told your grandmother I made him pee off, and he was so scared now he’s scared of all bridges, but if he ever tells you that, it’s not true. IT IS A LIE.”

That day, Dad said, “Amy! Do you want to go to the dump?”

DID I WANT TO GO TO THE DUMP? Boy howdy, did I want to go to the dump!



Now, the dump was AWESOME. Don’t even be turning up your nose. The dump smelled terrible, sure. This was long before you paid money and had to have things all neatly recycled. This was a pile of willy-nilly GARBAGE. Couches and dolls and food and dead animals and parts of cars and a million seagulls and everywhere you looked, there was a new thing. The dump was ADVENTURE. And Dad would drive in all fast and it was all hilly in there and the truck would bump all over and I would laugh and laugh.

Shush. I grew up in a small town. We took adventure where we could get it.

So Dad and I packed up into the dump-going truck and I put on my little red riding hood (it was the BEST red hoodie, so I was wearing hoodies before they were cool, yo) and we took off to the dump.

I don’t remember exactly what happened at the dump. I’m going to guess just dump-stuff. Dropping off garbage. Dad saying, “DON’T TOUCH THAT! IT IS FILTHY! WE DO NOT NEED THAT!” (I don’t know if I was ever really going to touch anything at the dump, but I wanted a closer look at it. It was like archaeology of castoffs. I was so fascinated.)

We went home. Now, the savvy grownup that I am would probably have picked up that something was going DOWN, you guys. But I was 6-or-7-year-old-Amy in my sassy red hoodie and a VERY successful trip to the dump on a happy October Saturday behind me, and I wasn’t much of a detective then.

I sincerely felt like Supergirl in my red hoodie. I need to get another one of these things.

I sincerely felt like Supergirl in my red hoodie. I need to get another one of these things.

Now, this is where, if I could find it, I would insert a photo that would make you laugh so, so hard, because it kind of perfectly sums up young-Amy in a single picture, but I have torn this place APART and it is not to be found. I have to assume that my mother has it, because I only have one album of young-Amy photos and it’s not in there.

Instead, I am going to include this very-well-executed internet drawing. YOU ARE WELCOME.

I'm pretty sure I'm the next Warhol, yo. Look right out.

I’m pretty sure I’m the next Warhol, yo. I especially like my red hoodie. It’s perplexingly terrible.

I opened the front door of my house and there was a deafening “SURPRISE!” and my whole family was crammed in there – I mean, all my cousins and aunts and uncles and my mom and my dad was all laughing behind me and you would THINK that would be such a happy surprise for a 6-or-7-year-old kiddo.


I did the same thing I do now, when surprised. I froze, then I made the most fake smile ever, and ever single photo of me from that party – every one – is me with this terrible false frozen party-face on, but with gritted teeth and flared nostrils. I did not want to come home to a house full of people (albeit people I did then, and do now, love.) I did not want this terrible surprise. I did not want this thing that had been plotted behind my back.

My parents are totally apologetic now (even though they still think I’m weird.) They know better than to ever, ever have any sort of surprise function for me ever again, as long as I live, up to and including my funeral. (I have that planned to the LETTER. I just have to hope I die before my parents.)

And just so you know, it’s gotten worse – now, when people jump out at me from behind things, my first reaction has become to protect myself with whatever’s handy. Once it was a painbrush, pointy-side out. Once it was a pen. Once it was a cast-iron fireplace poker. So if you need further proof that maybe you should announce yourself before you get into my general vicinity, there’s that. I really don’t want to stab and/or bludgeon you. I have this fight-or-flight reaction…and it’s totally fighty.

So! Yes. I love birthdays. And Christmas. And, in general, all the holidays. And I will always be happy if you think of me!

Just please, for the love of Pete (and your own well-being) DO NOT LEAP OUT FROM BEHIND SOMETHING SHOUTING SURPRISE AT ME.

Thanks. Love your faces.


(This post was written for the lovely Emily’s Remember the Time blog hop! Have you visited Emily’s amazingness lately? You should! She’s one of my favorite humans!)

It is my BIRTHDAY! (A very special guest post!)

Gude morneng, people of teh bloge. Momme said I culd blog today because it is a speshul day for me. It is my burthday!

I am blogginge! Mommee has used her lapetope so much she wore off all the silver on it. She needs a new one, she sayse!

I am blogginge! Mommee has used her lapetope so much she wore off all the silver on it. She needs a new one, she sayse!

Well, it is my pertend burthday, because I am adopted catte. Mome doesn’t’t know when is my burthday. I do not know ether because I am a catte. We do not haev calenders! But when Moeme adopted me, the vet sayed I was two yeers olde, and so she said my 2end burthday was on the day she adopted mee and I became a catte with a Momme who pettes my furr.

It is many yeers later. Do you know how olde I am twoday?

I am Foreteen yeers old!

Momme looked it up on the internetwebs and she sayed that when a catte is fouerteen, it is like a hoomanperson being seventy-2 years old. “Thatte is very old, Dummbecatte!” she sayed to me. Then she picked me up and kissed me on my noes and also cuddled me and that messes up my furres! So when I gotted onto the floor, I licked my furr until it was niec again. Momme doesnot understaynd how my furres need to always be so nice but she gives good cuddels so I still loev her.

O no! This cat has the mesziest furs! He must be SO MADFACE!

O no! This cat has the mesziest furs! He must be SO MADFACE!

Momme has been my momme for tweylve yeers. That is a longtime! I donot remember my home beefore Momme but probebly it was not goodtimes because they did not want me anymore and left me at a scary playce called a shelter but not inside but owtside where it was wintercold but Momme worked there and she bringed me home with her because she sayed, “I like yore fayce, you funny furree catte.” Me is Dumbcatte. Did I say hi? Oh, no. I always try to be saying hi. Hi from Dumbcatte. Hi to you, peeple!

Hi from me Dumbcatte! I am a litele scayred of you but not all the way scarede.

Hi from me Dumbcatte! I am a litele scayred of you but not all the way scarede.

On humanpeeple burthdays, there are caykes and presents and cards mayde of paper, and sometimes the phone rings and also peeple write on your wall of Faycebookings, but I donot have a phone or a fayceboke. I don’t think cates can hayve a faycebooke because we have paws. That seems unfayre. I want to talk to my congressmene. I would be good at Faycebookings! I would like all of your piktures and also say things like “helo from me i Am Dumbcatte!” and you would smile. Also I wuld post piktures of cattes. Momme says that lots of peeple do that on teh Faecbooks so yew would liek that!

I wulde post THISCAT! He is funny cat. He has a cowche! And WURDS! I like him lots much.

I wulde post THISCAT! He is funny cat. He has WURDS! I like him lots much.

Momme says I sholde tell you about how it is to bee seventee-two yeers old in hooman years and about importent things that haev happened to me in my lief because that is what olde peeple mite do on their burthdays so I was thinkeng all day aboute this. I forgette things a lot of tiems. This mite be becauz I am olde, or because Momme says I am a catte of very litel brain. But she still loves me the most of all the cattes of all the wurld! That maeks me lucky!

I am thinkinge hard hard. This is my thinkinge fayce, but also my almost asleepe fayce.

I am thinkinge hard hard. This is my thinkinge fayce, but also my almost asleepe fayce.

I will tell you things that are importent that have happened to mee! Dumbcatte! You did not forgete I am Dumbcatte, right? Gude.

When I am TWO yeers old, Momme rescued me from the cowld outsideplace. At furst I was scared of her because peeple made me scaredcat. But then I reelized, she is gudelady! And gievs me many pettings and many treets! So I luved her after some months of hiding under the bed where there was dust and also it was darktimes. Her howse was warm and no one throwed things at me and there was alwaeys food and waters, and treets. When I was two was a very gude yeer even though I was scared at furst.

When I am STILL TWO yeers old, Momme and me and my sistercat got in the car and drove for many many days! I did not know what is happeninge. The car had maney things in it like cloethes and pots and pans and all the books. Me and sistercat were in the front seet in a carrier with a seetbelt over us. Mostly I sleeped the whoel time. Sistercat did not sleep. She made meows the whole way but LOWD. Momme kept saying, “Please stop, Bittercat, you are giving mee migrayne hedacke.” Sistercat did not like cars or drivings and made so many meows. Mostly I just sleeped. Sometimes Momme would pet me and say, “You are my gudboye and a very gude traveller, Dumbcatte” and I would make purrs. I do not mind travels! Momme sneaked us into hotels for two nites and Sistercatte was crayzee and runned all around and maed more meows and mostly I sleeped more and headbutted Momme and eated some foods and treets. We were going to New Yoerk where Mommee was from! And we staeyed with Grandma and Grandpa at camp in the woods and I jumped on Grandma and she laffed and I catched a mowse and eated all of it but the tayle and that made Grandma say “Why couldn’t you eet the whole mowse, Dumbcatte?” but tayles aren’t delicious, Grandma!

Looke! This mowse eats this catte's fudes! Oh, this would make me sadest. I like my fudes but not for mowses to eat!

Looke! This mowse eats this catte’s fudes! Oh, this would make me sadest. I like my fudes but not for mowses to eat!

When I am STILL TWO yeers old, Momme and me and sistercat moved in with Niec Laydee and her catte and I falled in love with her cat but her catte did not love me back and maed hisses at me a lot of many times. Niec Laydee is Momme’s frend from college where Momme lerned to be actress adn writer. She gaev me many pettings and was niec and liked cattes. Our howse had flores made of woode and if I runned very fasttimes I would slied and run into the wall and Momme would say, “Oh, no, Dumbcatte, THAT’S not gude” but also laugh and hide it behinde her hand.

Sometimes my leggs would all go out sidewaysplaces. Momme would laugh but pretende it was coffing because she is nicelaydee.

Sometimes my leggs would all go out sidewaysplaces. Momme would laugh but pretende it was coffing because she is nicelaydee.

When I am EIGHT yeers old, me and Momme and sistercat moved into a NEW playce that does not have woode floors. It is littel and I liek it fine becuz Momme is still heer. I wuld live anywhere Momme is! And sistercatte and I sleep with Momme on her bed and sometiems we curl up with eech other becuz we are sister and brothercattes but only becuz of adoption but that is the sayme says MomMe.

This is me in new home cuddling with mommee. She is warm and soft and pettes my furrs.

This is me in new home cuddling with mommee. She is warm and soft and pettes my furrs.

When I am ELEVEN yeers old sistercatte getted very sick and would not coem out from under the bed or eet or drink and she made sad noyses and culd not breethe and losed all her weight and we culd see all her bones and I am sadcatte adn Momme is sadMomme. And one day sistercatte goed away and she did not coem home, and when Momme comed hoem she cryed and cryed and hugged me adn I looked for sistercatte for many days and sayed “Meow? Meiuw?” but she did not come owt. Momme sayed she had to go to sleep adn wuld not come hoem. I am sad adn Momme is sad.

When I am FORETEEN yeers old I am writing this blogge! And I am seventy-2 hooman yeers old. But I still jump around like a kittne because I do not feel olde. I sleepe with Momme every nite and purr in her ear and sometimes jumpe on her when she is sleeping but she does not get mad. She says, “Dumbcatte Dumbcatte no no. I am sleeping. Be a gudcatte” and I try but I liek jumping on her sometiems. I cannot help it. She is like trampoleen I love more than any of all the thinges!

Mommee says to stop writing now so I can have a can of squishy fude that is special burthday treet and smeels like fishes. Have a happy day to you peeple! Do not worry about beeing seventee-two becuase you will still feele like a yung kitten liek I do!

I loev you and wuld loev you more if you wuld give me treets!

Loev, Dumbcatte

This is me walking away bybye! I am going to sleepe on the box for the cableteevee now where it is much warm. It gets fur in the cableboxx. Momme says "Oh Dumbcatte" but she does not mind becauz she loves mee!

This is me walking away bybye! I am going to sleepe on the box for the cableteevee now where it is much warm. It gets fur in the cableboxx. Momme says “Oh Dumbcatte” but she does not mind becauz she loves mee!

How to make a perfect birthday

It was a lovely birthday, and to cap it off I am going to bed early, because I think a good night’s sleep is important. Don’t you? Well, you SHOULD. (Mostly I just want to curl up with a book and read a little before I nod off, because that’s one of my favorite ways to fall asleep. I like to fall asleep with exquisite words in my brain. This book isn’t especially exquisite, but it’ll do.)

I had a kajillion good wishes today: from Facebook, Twitter, email, REAL mail, text, the phone…I really was surrounded by all the love today. Can anyone wish for more on their birthday? Some people might want fancy meals and dancing and drinking and all that flash and such. I really want for nothing more than people telling me they remember me and love me once a year. (Well, they can tell me ANYTIME. But it means just a little bit more on your birthday, doesn’t it?)

Best of all (and there was a lot of best) I got a card from The Nephew (and his mom) and The Nephew wrote MY name and HIS name and I’m telling you right now there were tears on that card when I opened it. What a smart kiddo. He’s going places, that nephew of mine. He’s only been in school for a month, and he can write his name! And apparently MY name! Get ready, world, kiddo’s going to take you over ANY DAY NOW.

And, then to top it all off, I got a call and guess who it was? THE NEPHEW! And he said “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” and he actually talked to me for a little while, which he never does!

Things The Nephew and I discussed:

How much I loved his card and how smart he was that he could write both of our names on it (“I know!”)
How he was liking school (“I do NOT like school!”)
WHY he was not liking school (“BORING BORING BORING”)
That school is often boring for very smart kids, and it will get better (“How do YOU know?” “I was a smart kid too, buddy.” “YOU WERE?”)
A strange thing (“I don’t think my daddy thinks I am smart.” “Oh, buddy! Of course he does!” “NO. My daddy never told you that.” “Of course he did. He thinks you are the smartest kid he knows.” “HA HA! No. Daddy didn’t say that to you!” This was all very curious, as I am quite sure his father has OFTEN told him how intelligent he is. We all remark on it regularly, because he amazes us with his super-quick brain. I asked his mom about it and she said, “I have no idea where he comes up with these things. Then he argues with you about them until he gets SO ANGRY. It’s a new thing he does.” I think he’s honing his speech and debate skills, maybe.)

Then the hung up on me, and called me right back (well, I assume his mom did) and I said, “Did you hang up on me?” and he said, “Yes, but not on PURPOSE” and then he said nothing else and I said, “Are we done with the phone now, buddy?” and he said, “Um. Yes!” and I said, “OK, does your mom want to talk to me?” and he said, “YES!” and I said, “OK. I love you so much! Bye!” and he said, “Bye! I love you!” and my whole heart lit up like a Lite Brite.

Kiddo’s got me wrapped all around his little finger, you know. It’s shameless, how much I adore him.

That was a very good birthday gift. The best.

It was, overall, just a perfect birthday.

Thank you for such a happy day. Onward into the next year! Soon it will be time for a very exciting trip south to have a very grand adventure! Only two more days of work! Which I’m sure will feel like seventeen years of work, because that’s how time works, isn’t it?

Happy rest of your week, people. The bed’s calling me, as is the book. Best way to finish a birthday I can think of at the moment; I’ll take advantage of it, I believe.

Birthday shenanigans and thoughts and…poison?


So I’m officially (of course) writing this BEFORE my birthday but we’re just going to pretend it’s actually my birthday right now because by the time you read this, I will have been a whole new age for almost 10 hours. Yes, my lucky mom had me right in the wee hours of the morning (and two weeks early) because I was in a HURRY to be born, dammit. THERE ARE ADVENTURES TO BE HAD, MOM! said wee, slightly-premature and totally-jaundiced Amy.

So far, and it’s not even my birthday yet, there have been happy surprises. I got presents from my mom and a couple of my aunts when my parents were here this weekend, and when I came home today I had cards waiting for me (THANK YOU R. and BFF!) and then…there was THIS!

Well! THIS is mysterious. You know what they say about taking candy from strangers. DON’T DO IT, is what they say.

Luckily, this was NOT from a stranger! It was from my most favorite Andreas!!! (The hint is the Åland Post at the top of the photo. Those are Andreas’ islands.)

So let’s see what surprises from the land of Finns arrived just in time for my very special day!

DELICIOUS CHOCOLATE! Milk chocolate and milk chocolate with cashews! (Cashews are my favorites. YUM.)

This is a very fancy box of chocolates that I neglected to take a photo of the inside of, but they’re like the prettiest kind that you don’t want to eat because they’re so pretty. But trust me. I’m going to eat them. Because, CHOCOLATES, yo. (Andreas knows my affection for all things chocolate.)

A MOST BEAUTIFUL NECKLACE! My guess is that Andreas’ super-talented fiancée made it, but he’s asleep right now so I can’t confirm this assumption. It is silver and purple and matches so many things I own and is so, so me. I can’t even describe. I am crazy in love with it. I opened it and my eyes went HUGE and I went “ooooh!” I can’t wait to wear it!



OK, so this only MIGHT be Swedish poison. Other things I decided it might be: perfume, or some sort of foodstuff. See, as you can see, the tag is in Swedish. So I was like, “WHAT COULD THIS BE?”

So of course I tasted it.

Then I was like, “OMG, this immediate tasting of a thing that you have NO IDEA WHAT IT IS is proof of your complete and total love and trust of Andreas, you know, because there are very few people that you would just taste a mystery substance without thinking it could kill you. Or make you grow larger or smaller, like Alice.” Then I giggled.

(It tasted like lemons and sugar and…mapley? And it was very sticky. NOT A EUPHEMISM.)

So then I researched it and “granskott sirap” is some sort of spruce-needle syrup. And the site I checked (and translated with Google Translate, which makes me laugh like a moron because it makes so many mistakes) said it’s helpful as both a cough syrup AND an ice-cream topping, and I seriously laughed SO HARD and emailed Andreas all, “It cannot be both. They are so disparate. OR CAN IT?”

Also, how cool is that bottle? It looks like it’s from an old-timey apothecary, and it’s SO not allowed to be mailed. Whenever you go to the post office they’re all “ANYTHING LIQUID, PERISHABLE OR GLASS?” as if they’re about to take you away in chains if you say yes. BREAKIN’ THE LAW FOR MY BIRTHDAY! THAT’S MY ANDREAS!

Thank you so much, Andreas. I love it all so much, and you are the best of the best.

Also, I totally saved this from LAST year so we could talk about it THIS year. Am I a planner, or what?

LAST YEAR’S BIRTHDAY HOROSCOPE! Let’s see how well it did!

I am a Libra. We like balance and lie a lot. Also, we're PRETTY. *blush*

I am a Libra. We like balance and lie a lot. Also, we’re PRETTY. *blush*

…you are at some sort of a turning point in your life, in terms of personal growth. Events that occur this year act as catalysts that get you in touch with some important issues in your emotional life. Your emotions run high, and mood swings or identity crises are possible. There may be some kind of conflict in your life arising from a great urge to do something different. The year ahead promises to be a busy, dynamic, and significant period in your life.

Yeah, actually, that’s not bad. This year saw a lot of shit go down, and mood swings is kind of an understatement. Also, not only was there an URGE to do something different, I DID something different. So, right on, last year’s horoscope.

You are able to see your life in terms of the big picture this year, and thus you more easily manage stress and your enthusiasm is natural. Others tend to be helpful and supportive.

Maybe over the last few months of the year; not so much the first part. Meh on this one, birthday forecast. (Although others were QUITE helpful and supportive; I have amazing friends.)

Your social life will likely increase and bring you in contact with more influential, powerful, or simply happy and helpful people. Educational, publishing, freelance, and promotional efforts can thrive this year.

Ooh, this is nice. I totally met INFLUENTIAL and POWERFUL people. (Also happy and helpful people.) And I’m working in both publishing and doing some freelance writing this year, and wasn’t doing either at this point last year. BOO-YAH, HOROSCOPE!

There was a huge paragraph about love crap in here. I’m cutting that shit out. No time for love, Dr. Jones.

So, not bad, horoscope, not bad. Keep it up for the year ahead. Predict me a funny guy who knows how to wield a semicolon, more time to write, and all kinds of travelly adventures for the upcoming year, please.

So, this past year: it’s been up and down; unemployment and new employment (times three) and doing things that I love; it’s been heartbreak and depression and joy beyond imagining; it’s been meeting people I never thought I would, in person, and giving them furious hugs, and seeing long-lost friends and relatives again, and giving them equally furious hugs. It’s been both a year of the best things and a year of the worst things, all rolled up into one. I don’t know how to judge such a year. I suppose the best I can say is I am thankful for the good things, more so than I can say, and the bad things…well, if nothing else, they taught me their various lessons, and moved on, hopefully leaving me wiser, and none the worse for wear.

I’ve written a lot; I’ve read a lot; I’ve laughed a lot; I’ve cried a lot. Most of all, I learned a lot. And I loved people in my crazy way I have. And I tried to leave things better than I found them. I am hoping I was successful in that, if nothing else.

This is my last year of my thirties; I plan to live it to the fullest. Adventures and travel and laughing and loving and living and living and living. And then living a little more.

Thanks for coming along for the ride, people of the interwebs. Knowing you’re all out there makes for a very happy birthday indeed.


Do you know what today is?

The day after Labor Day?

Well, yes. Yes, it is that.

National Skyscraper Day?

Huh. Who knew? Apparently, yes. Yes, it’s that as well.

The day Richard the Lionheart was crowned?

Yes! It seems so!

The day in 1777 during the American Revolutionary War when, during the Battle of Cooch’s Bridge, the flag of the United States is flown in battle for the first time?

ZOMG YES. Also? Cooch’s Bridge. Whaaaat?

(It’s also the day the Revolutionary War officially ended, 8 years later. Probably because people were still laughing about “Cooch’s Bridge” and therefore were finding it very hard to take the war seriously anymore.)

The day the first official game of polo was played?

YES! Tally-ho, you affected fancypantses!

The day in 1967 when traffic changed in Sweden from driving on the left to driving on the right overnight? (This was called “Dagen H,” per Andreas, and to remind people it was coming up, products were sold with “Dagen H” on them; one of the products? Ladies’ underpants. This made me laugh SO HARD and then Andreas and I had a long conversation about how that would not be at all sexy.) YES! It is that day! It truly is!

Is it, perhaps, the birthday of Ferdinand Porsche (if you think he invented telescopes, you’re way off-base) and a baseball player named Eddie Stanky (hee! did he live in Cooch’s Bridge?) and Whitey Bulger the mobster and Charlie “Tiger Blood!” Sheen and Shaun White?


Is it also the day that my beloved E.E. Cummings died?

Sadly, yes, it is!

Is it Merchant Navy Day in the UK and Memorial Day in Tunisia and Flag Day in Australia?


What ELSE could it be, I wonder?




Oh, that’s better than them all. ALL the times better.

HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HEATHER! Thank you for being my Under the Dome snarkmate and my hilarious internet friend and one of my favorite bookish people and for totally being up for making funny faces for sj’s blog posts and for being awesome and wonderful and for being YOU!

Have the best day!

Because I know you love it, here is a very special picture for you!


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