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The birthday girl

The birthday girl

Yes, it’s my honey’s birthday; she of indeterminate age. For those who know Cindy, this is her actual birth anniversary, not the month she sets aside to celebrate.

I gave my presents to her this morning, before she left for work. She loved the card, it was sentimental, not funny. She wore one of the pairs of earrings I gave her to work today. I know she’ll use up the prepaid gift card in short order. I think, however, that her favorite gift was the bacon press. It was the biggest, heaviest bacon press that I could find. She thinks that I don’t listen to her when she rambles on about things that she wants.

You might think that a bacon press is not very romantic. Well, you may be right. My Cindy can occasionally be practical. She used to love watching Alton Brown’s Good Eats on the Food Network, and she knows that he detests single-use tools. She knows well that she can use the bacon press to clunk me on the head for buying her a bacon press. It is a true multitask implement.

Tonight we are going out to dinner with some friends. I’m pretty sure it won’t be to a Mexican restaurant, because she isn’t fond of wearing a sombrero while the staff sings some sort of happy birthday song to her. Don’t get me wrong, she doesn’t mind being the center of attention; she just isn’t fond of the sombrero.

Not to toot my own horn too much, but I’ve avoided making a joke about Cindy’s birthday pretty much coinciding with the return of the swallows at Capistrano, or the sand hill cranes on the Platte River in Nebraska, or even the buzzards (turkey vultures) at Hinkley, Ohio. What would be the purpose. Besides, the first vulture arrived seven days ago.

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