Four score and seven years ago … well, not yet but gettin’ there …

Four score and seven years ago – minus some years – my father and mother brought forth on this continent a new child, conceived in marriage and dedicated to the proposition that a child created is unequal(ed) …

A day like any other day.

Except it isn’t.

It’s a day just like any other day. Get up. Go to work.

Except it isn’t. On this day in the three years past, I had no self-sustaining job to go to.

It’s a day with nothing to do, really, outside the norm. No celebrations. No being taken out. No special dinners unless I make them myself.

When I and my sister were girls, my mother always said: “You can have anything you want for dinner on your birthday.”

I picked the same meal year after year: pigs in blankets, spinach and angel food cake with chocolate icing.

“You can have anything, even steak,” she’d remind.

“Pigs in blankets,” I’d say, happy and self-knowing.

I took the liberty of celebrating an evening early yesterday. Rather than baking up pigs in blankets – note: MUST use the Pillsbury crescent rolls, no other brand will do! – there’s nuthin’ lonelier than a tray of a favorite food and no one to share it with — I made a special trip to the Costco snack bar.

Where a Polish dog or hot dog – a sizeable one too! – and a soda sell for a buck-50.

I forgot the soda. That’s okay. I had other plans for the hot dog. Which I dressed to my precise liking: mustard. chopped onions. always. and because I was in the mood: sauerkraut.

I drove the 8 miles home, doggie snug in its foil wrapper and my bag for warmth.

There, I popped open a beer. Not just any beer but the single bottle of porter. From Sri Lanka. That the chatty and knowledgeable liquor warehouse manager/owner(?) had recommended. That he sold me for a buck-50 “for your birthday,” he said.

This beer. And though I didn’t take this photo, it perfectly captures its ambiance. And a cool label:


No spinach and no angel food cake with chocolate icing and baked wieners wrapped in crescent rolls. It was the modified meal, the adult version you might say. A treat, no, a gift, really, to myself in the absence of local friends to mark my arrival on this planet, officially, X-number of years ago.

Happy birthday, dear me!

I’d sing save that I make the howling tomcat in the alley look like Caruso.

On your birthday, I wish for you, dear {name}, courage to be your true self, boldness in heart and passion, friends to discover you, extraordinary blossoming and ever the sun sun sun!

Work less, live more. Be bold. Be brave. Be yourself. Beneath the sun.

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11 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. cruisekitten
    Mar 15, 2012 @ 09:40:51

    Glad to hear your birthday was less then suck.
    Enjoy that stout, it’s looks decadent!

    Reply

  2. Karyn @ kloppenmum
    Mar 15, 2012 @ 16:29:40

    Happy Birthday and I’ll raise a glass with you… to positive change!

    Reply

  3. longeyesamurai
    Mar 16, 2012 @ 04:52:52

    I wish you an happy birthday and I hope you took a glass of Lamb’s rum afterwards. πŸ™‚

    Reply

    • allycatadventures
      Mar 16, 2012 @ 08:59:02

      @capra – Thank you! LOL, not Lamb’s rum afterwards but funny you mention rum. On occasion I get a hankering for rum so asked the knowledgeable store head for recommendations, which he pointed out. Unfortunately, I don’t recall their names, only their location in the store and labels. In an inebriated state, isn’t that all one needs? *kidding!* Are you a rum drinker?

      Reply

  4. longeyesamurai
    Mar 17, 2012 @ 04:17:49

    “only their location in the store and labels. In an inebriated state, isn’t that all one needs?” No, no NO!!! You also needs samples, too, just in case πŸ™‚

    I don’t consider myself a rum drinker per se, although I do like the taste of it in Cuba Libre and Papa Doble (Hemingway’s favourite).

    I did receive a bottle of Cuban rum from a coworker straight from the Island, which I do sip from time to time.

    Reply

    • allycatadventures
      Mar 17, 2012 @ 09:21:55

      @capra – Next time I’m in that liquor warehouse where I found that Lion porter from Sri Lanka – not to mention the amazingly Denver-elusive Old Overholt rye whiskey, my favorite, I’ll check out the names of those rums the head honcho recommended. Whenever I see rum, I think of a friend I had in prison — where I used to *work,* mind you, not live (though that’s not without its merits). He spoke descriptively of the exceptional rum he used to drink during beachy excursions. Rum and Tre are forever associated in my mind.

      Reply

  5. lexiemom
    Mar 29, 2012 @ 23:17:42

    Happy belated birthday! I’m sorry you spent it solo (except for your cyber-friends here, of course, but that’s not the same as a warm body on your special day).
    May the Lord bring you mountains of friends in Denver to celebrate with you next year!

    Reply

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