My Birthday Turned Into An Episode of Maury

I turned 41 today. I woke up with a bunch of awesome messages via Facebook and Twitter wishing me a very happy birthday. It was lovely.

Then Mr. Misha woke up. Nothing. No hug. No handmade card. No 'Happy Birthday to my wife', nothing. I was pretty sure he forgot it. I never thought he would ever forget my birthday. You see, Paul Stanley from KISS and I share the same birthday. Since Mr. Misha is such a KISS fan, I didn't think it was possible he'd forget.

I made breakfast. Nothing. I vented on Facebook and Twitter. I got lots of sympathy. I'm pretty sure someone tipped him off, because a few hours later he came in my room and wished me a happy birthday. I felt much better.

During our conversation, my mom left me a voicemail. "I'm calling to wish you a happy birthday daughter. I woke up at 3:30am this morning and couldn't fall back asleep for an hour and a half. I'm blaming you." (I was born at 4:06am) I called her back and apologized for waking her up and thanked her for giving birth to me. My mom proudly declared that she had ordered my birthday present online (this is a big deal for her) and half of it should arrive today. It did. She got me a heated mattress pad (it came today) and she pre-ordered the new Sookie Stackhouse book for me, which will arrive in May. I thanked her again; we finished up our talk and hung up.

I played around on the Internet, watched some TV and then decided a nap was in order. My nap was lovely and I woke up to Mr. Misha holding a big, black box. "I think it's flowers, the box says FTD" he exclaimed. I opened the box and sure enough, it was two-dozen roses. They are quite pretty- peach, yellow, reds, dark pinks. The pug was very interested in them, so I let her sniff the flowers while I read the card. The note was signed, "Love, Dad". I started laughing. Mr. Misha was confused, and then it hit him. "You don't know who sent these, do you?" "Nope." I replied. I had no freaking idea which Dad sent me the flowers. I thought it was one dad, he thought it was the other.

Since it was ingrained in my head from infancy, the first thought I had was, "I don't know who to send the thank you note to!" I couldn't call one of them up and say thank you. If he wasn't the one who sent them, it would hurt his feelings/make him feel guilty. I decided to call FTD. Here is how the conversation went:

FTD: Thank you for calling FTD. How can I help you?


Me: I have a problem. I just had flowers delivered and the note was signed, 'Love, Dad'. I know this sounds like an episode of Maury, but I don't know which Dad sent them. Could you help me?


FTD: (stifling a laugh) Yes, ma'am.


She asked me for a bunch of info and found the order.


FTD: I'm not allowed to give out the information without the sender's approval, so I am going to put you on hold while I call your Dad.


Me: Oh no! I don't want him to know that I didn't know which one it was!


FTD: I'll phrase it so he will never know.


Me: Okay.


I was on hold for a few moments and then she came back on and told me which Dad had sent them.


Me: Thank you so much! I'm going to call my mom right now and tell her what a floozy she is.


FTD: (giggles) Alright. You have a good day. Is there anything else I can do for you?


Me: No, thank you. I appreciate your help and discretion.

I immediately called my mother and called her a floozy. She didn't deny her floozieness; she just wanted to know why I was calling her one this time.

Ugh. 

Happy Birthday Mr.Misha

Today is Mr. Misha's birthday. He is turning 45. I found out on our first date that he was born at the hospital that I now work at, birthing babies. The first time I met his mom, she told me the story of his birth. It is quite cute, especially when you hear it in her Polish accent. So that is how I decided to write it, in her words.
















"Honey, za pains kept comink and I kept pooooshink. One time, before za next pain, an announcement came ofer za loud zpeaker; 'Lady and Gentleman, General Mac Arthur has joost die'. Well, I could not think, za pain come again and I must poosh. Zo, I am poooshink and poooshink, and zen, ze doctor he say 'Mrs. Knee-Klev-Itch, you have ze leetle general!' And zere was Pawel. Bud he deed not look like general to me, he look like za colt. Like leetle horse on my bellie, wit arms hangink off one of my sides and legz hanging off zee ozzer side. I am not big wooman, and Pawel was BIG boy. When Stan make to za hospital, he get so exzited that we have boy after two girl.....he forget he is on third floorz and walk right into window, knock himself out!"

Happy Birthday Husband and Thank You Emilia, for birthin' your son.

It Creeps Up On Ya

It started slowly. First, I got an email. I didn't think anything of it. I get tons of emails from groups asking me to write to someone or make a pledge about something or send money. I read the email, agreed with the cause and sent a letter to my congressman. I said that they could contact me with other "action alerts" if need be.

Then I got an email asking me to submit questions for the (then) upcoming presidential election. I wrote some questions. Some of them were smarmy and I didn't expect them to be used. Some were thoughtful and I thought they might be used. They weren't.

Then I received a "voter guide". I thought it was nice that they would include me into their group, even though I wasn't "one of their kind". It didn't actually tell me how to vote, it merely wanted me to ask myself (and the candidates) certain questions before I cast my ballot. I had already sent in my ballot, but it was nice of them to remind me how to vote responsibly.

Then yesterday happened. Yesterday they sent me a membership card. I knew it must be a mistake. I am not one of them. I certainly support them, for the most part. But I AM NOT ONE OF THEM! I checked their website and I was correct, I do not qualify to be a member.

Yesterday, I was sent an AARP membership card.

It hurts. It really does.

BUI

(Blogging under the influence)

While it technically is the 21st, I have not gone to bed yet and in my tipsy state, it is still my birthday. I just turned 39. Thanks to everyone for the lovely birthday comments, messages, emails, voicemails, calls, carrier pigeon notes, etc.

Sleazy Bastard and his Kool-Aid started off the festivities with a giggling middle of the night call. It was wonderful to finally hear Kool-Aid's voice along with the much-missed laughter of my favorite Sleazy Bastard. Thank you guys!

Several hours later, the family phone calls started. My mom called me. I think she forgot why she was calling me. Instead of starting off with the obligatory "Happy Birthday", she spent a good 15 minutes telling me about how much clearer her vision is since she had cataract/vision correction surgery on her eye on Friday. Yes, I said eye. My mom has a prosthetic eye and a "real" eye. While she was yammering on and on about how she now could buy "fun" sunglasses and "wild" reading glasses, I kind of zoned out. When she started to describe the neighbor's house in detail to me, I tuned back in and realized how impaired her vision was prior to the surgery. She has been averaging about 1.5 car accidents per year...I thought she was a spaz and a crappy driver. Now I know she is a spaz, a crappy driver and was practically blind! Before she ended the call she remembered to wish me a happy birthday and I thanked her for giving birth to me.

The next phone call was from my sweet, Polish, mother-in-law. I love this woman. She is the best mother-in-law in the whole world. This is how the conversation went:


Me: Hello Mamcia!

Her: Hall-o Mee shell. Haappee Birsday Sweetee. I love you Hunee. Oh Hunee, I vaz so seek and I have you card, but I deed not send. I hope you forgeeve me, Hunee.

Me: Oh Mamcia, I love you. Don't worry about the card, the call from you is all I need.

Her: But Hunee, I feels so badt. I did not send card.

Me: Mamusia, it is okay. It is good to hear your voice. Are you getting better?

She then went on to tell me about her cold and her doctor for about 5 minutes. Then she changed the subject.

Her: So, Mee Shell. Tell me. How many spring has zit bean?

Me: Pardon?

Her: How many spring have you had Hunee?

Me: Oh! This will be my 39th spring.

Her: Ahhh. Zis iz zee last spring for you Hunee. Zen you will be no spring cheekun!

Later in the afternoon, we went to Mr. Misha's oldest brother's house for my birthday celebration. Because it was my day, I got to use this plate:

We had a lovely dinner and then it was time for cake. Bob lit my candles:

It was a lovely cake. Chocolate, my favorite with purple candles, my favorite color:

We had cake and ice cream, I opened my presents and then we went back to our house to meet up with our friends, Mike and Deb.

We went to San Francisco and saw The Late Late Show's Craig Ferguson.

He was hysterical. After, we went to a bar in North Beach and had some cocktails. Then we went to Burgermeister and had yummy burgers, garlic fries and beer. Then we came home. It was a wonderful birthday.

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I want to warn all of you that on Tuesday, January 22nd, I will be participating in "BLOGGING FOR CHOICE DAY". It won't be funny. It will be long. If you choose to comment, please be respectful and polite and I will do the same. Please do not post graphic photos. I am a believer of the first amendment, but I will delete abusive, hateful or offensive comments. If this topic is upsetting for you, for whatever reason, just skip my blog post on that day.