March 30, 2007
No, that's not a joke.
I have NEVER enjoyed having a birthday located squarely on April Fool's Day, and apparently there was no chance of me even saying I cut it close-if I remember correctly from my baby album, I was born at about 2:00 in the afternoon, so I am indeed an April Fool's Day baby. There isn't a crack about April Fool's Day babies that you could make that I haven't heard, either, despite people always being willing to give it a try.
I have no idea what's planned for the day, only I can't help but feel something's planned, mostly because Angus has this undeniable sparkle in his eye as he denies all knowledge of anything planned. I love that I can read him like that, but at the same time it pisses me off that I can read him, but I can't see into the innermost reaches of his soul and find out what - if anything - has been planned. To be honest, nothing has to be planned - I'm just feeling a bit needy and would like some reassurance time.
It must be so great to be with someone with issues.
Angus asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday, and I laid out my dream scenario:
- 5-star hotel.
- Champagne.
- Massage and facial.
- A great round of sex.
- Then all of CSI Season 6 on DVD while I'm laying chilled out on the 5-star hotel bed.
- Dinner of a great food (of course, my fave is mac and cheese, but I could admit that I should bring my game up a little for my birthday and all.)
- Falling asleep after an hour of him telling me how wonderful our relationship is and that time started moving finally the day he met me, or some such romantic shit in a similar vein.
I would've included something about John Cusack, but that's just unrealistic.
But barring any of that happening, I'd settle for:
- Him walking the dog so I can sleep in.
- A great round of sex.
- Him not trying to talk like an American at all for one day (he still sounds like someone battling a case of outrageous hemorrhoids when he tries to imitate us, so a day of not thinking about Preparation-H would be ok with me.)
- A nice meal.
- Loads of voluntary cuddles and compliments.
My stepmother keeps wondering what kind of cake I'll be having. Truthfully, Angus and I usually don't make each other cakes-that was a big thing he and his ex did, but honestly, most of the time I can take or leave cake. I honestly can't stand frosting and never have done, so when I was younger we always had Baskin Robbins' Ice Cream cakes. Ice cream? Good. Cake? Good. Ice cream frosting? Good. The ice cream cakes isn't really an option here, so I told him that ice cream sundaes instead of cake would be ok this weekend, too.
I've specifically requested no English birthday cake. Again, England is fantastic in many, many ways. They have (after many years of abuse) gained a great reputation in food, and I love many English dishes. But one thing I can't stand here is the cake-for Christmas, weddings, and Christenings they have that heavy, heavy fruitcake. For birthdays and other celebrations, they have a kind of "fruit cake lite".
I won't go near fruitcake.
Like frosting, I have never liked the stuff.
Fruitcake is banned from the birthday weekend (although maybe I'll make it for him, as he likes the stuff.)
So I'm Cake Neutral. Although weirdly, lately I've been craving yellow cake with the world's thinnest layer of chocolate frosting. This is seriously out of character for me because 1) I don't really like cake and 2) in case I haven't been clear, I can't stand frosting. He found a recipe for it online (you can't buy the mix here. In fact, there are only one or two mixes you can buy here, so anytime I've made a cake I've made it from scratch. It's more fun that you might imagine, actually, in a "god the flour exploded" kind of way.) So we'll see. I'm good either way-cake or no cake.
Apparently my birthday present arrives today, too, because Angus said that was the closest he could arrange it to my birthday. I gave him a list of what I'd like for my birthday, and I'm relatively certain it's not something like a new fridge or a new dishwasher, mostly because our appliances are still new but also because he is under strict instructions that he is never to buy me an appliance for a gift. This came about as his sister-in-law got an iron from his brother one year, and the other sister-in-law got a juicer (despite the fact that she hates cooking and anything to do with it.) I do not feel that appliances are appropriate presents in any way, shape or form. If I need an iron I'll fucking buy one. If Santa brings me one, he better take a running start because it's going airborne.)
(The one exception to that rule is this. I'd love to have one. I'd worship it for the rest of my life. No one would be in trouble if I got one, although there's a good chance everything we'd eat for a long period of time would have meringue on it, and I hate meringue, I'd make it just because.)
But my present is coming today.
And my present is big.
Very big.
He said that the delivery truck will be by anytime between 8 and 6 today. As he has a meeting this afternoon, if it arrives while he's out I'm to ask the guys to put it in the driveway, although apparently I'll know what it is right away.
I'm convinced it's that baby elephant I've always wanted. I'll name him Seymour, and I'll let Maggie and Mumin ride on him. He'll be so happy here, and I'll punch anyone in the throat that tries to call him Dumbo because I don't want Seymour to have a self-esteem problem.
The baby elephant theme is riding high in our house. I keep asking Angus when my baby elephant arrives, and he keeps rolling his eyes. The truth is, I'm not good with surprises-I hate knowing if one is coming, I'd rather just live my life cluelessly in the dark until something springs up. Warning me that a surprise is coming is like torturing a lactose-intolerant cheese lover with a visit to Neal's Yard.
So there you have it.
On Sunday, I have the unremarkable birthday of 33, which doesn't feel either old or young, I just accept that it is (I love existentialism).
Today, my baby elephant arrives.
Life doesn't get much better than this.
-H.
PS-it's a day early, but it is a tradition, so happy birthday, Mitzi!
Posted by: Everydaystranger at
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