It's almost my birthday. Another hour and 15 minutes. So, this is legitimate, posting about birthdays.
I have never been one of those "I don't make a big deal about my birthday, blah" people. I guess some families don't do those traditions and some do... mind did. Birthdays required at the very least a cake with candles and some ice cream, and a few wrapped presents. Mind you, we never went all out like some people might, there were never any pony rides or hired clowns, but that never seemed to matter. It was about making the day for the person whose birthday it was. What they wanted for breakfast, they got. They got to play with the best toys. They got the birthday song sung to them, and a picture taken of the moment when they blew out candles.
(I just realized all of that is grammatically incorrect: I should have used "he" or "she", but frankly it would make the sentences a little awkward to go back and change them.)
Anyway. Birthdays are a grand excuse to treat yourself and have chocolate cake with ice cream. Why not take advantage of that?
Tomorrow I will be 22 years old. Man, time flies. Mum is here, and tomorrow we're planning to take in the Boyce Market (every Saturday morning at George Street), then go for lunch with Tracy. Later there are plans to celebrate with my female "soul mates" (err, ok, or you could just call them my close friends) and drink a bit of Cava (the poor girl's champagne) and eat some pizza we'll make ourselves. It's supposed to be sunny like today was, another beautiful day in the little city by the river.
What was your best birthday ever?
PS The image above is from here. This is an awesome site for people who make art and collages and stuff! Frig wha!
PPS Marlo and I were watching "The National" last night, as I documented in the comments box of the last post. There was a panel discussion between three politicos about Stephen Harper and his "flip-flopping", apparently a political term meaning switching sides and not doing what you say. However, some of the phrases made us laugh so much that Marlo had to write a blog about it. She cracks my shit up, to borrow a phrase from Janice.
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