Queen of Rambles

I’ve had a really great birthday today, even though I don’t like inching up on old age. I look down at my hands and freak out a little. They are my mother’s hands. In high school biology we learned that if you grabbed a piece of your hand skin and let it go, a young person’s skin would spring right down but an old person’s skin would sink slowly back into position. I loved pinging my skin into place. It doesn’t ping any more. It sinks. Maybe I need to inject some ass fat into my hands. That should make things ping. Do they have a home surgery guide for that?

I spent the day doing some of my favorite things: baking and eating. I found a complex cake recipe and had fun pretending I was a world renowned pastry chef as I whipped egg whites and melted chocolate. You know what’s funny? I refused to take cooking in high school because I didn’t want to be painted into the corner of Oppressed Woman. Now all I want to do is cook. I did have to take Home Ec. in junior high and it was awful. I’d get into big arguments with the teacher over the correct methods for baking cookies. My cookies were always the best in the class. You should never argue cooking with a fat girl.

We went on a long walk and discovered a huge lake right behind our apartment. We are looking forward to exploring the lake when it gets warmer , though you wouldn’t know it from our conversation:

Mike: This is going to be great when it warms up.
Carrie: Yeah, if you ever get time off work.
Mike: And if there aren’t mosquitoes.
Carrie: And if it’s not too crowded.
Mike: And if it’s not too hot.

Just call us the Glass Half Full Family.

Then it was out to dinner. We were served by a man who was clearly in the witness protection program. He was an ex-mobster who agreed to testify for the government in exchange for his life. He’s not hiding very well.

He was about fifty years old, which was strange since we were at one of those chain restaurants that employ hip little young things who are Oh! So! Happy! to serve you. He was not Oh So Happy. He wasn’t even Happy. Or happy. He was a grouch. He forgot to bring our soup and salad, gave us the wrong check and was just generally unpleasant. He won’t be up for any waiter of the year awards.

I would be pissed by the service, but we got a free dessert out of the deal and I got to plan our escape out the back door–if the mobsters happened to find him and come in shooting. I felt like calling the fire chief, though, because the back exit was blocked by several chairs. To escape, I would have had to hurdle over a crowded table with a very wiggly baby in my arms. I am just so glad MisterE is happy and cheerful when we go out. He makes it easy to eat out and have fun.

Ok, enough words. Sit right back and enjoy this birthday photo essay:

Twenty. . . errrrr. . .thirty-something years ago a bald little baby had a first birthday party. Isn’t that a cute dress?

I know MisterE is the spitting image of Mike, but I think I look like him in this picture.

Today that little bald baby spent many an hour having a great time making a modified seven layer chocolate chiffon cake. Modified=the recipe was halved and only made three layers. Seven layers is too much for even the most chocolaty of chocolate lovers.

The innards, if you will.

While I slaved away in the kitchen, MisterE spent time perfecting his lounging pose. I just need to buy him a bikini.

Ok, this was going to be an essay about my birthday, but how can I resist posting a picture like this?

MisterE had fun helping me field birthday calls. Why is it babies go for cords and paper? He could care less about his toys, but give him a cord and he’ll have a great time till he electrocutes himself.

Did I mention he’s been sitting up really well for the past week?

How did my birthday post turn into a baby-fest? Seeing his sweet little smile is the best present a girl could ever ask for. A laptop is a pretty sweet addition, though.

This entry was posted on Sunday, March 26th, 2006 at 6:16 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.