My friend celebrated a birthday at the beginning of the month. No, you don’t need to know how old he is (sssshhhhh….he’s officially an old man but don’t tell him that! also, I know he reads this so haha).
A few years ago he and I went out for lunch and while we were sitting at lunch, I asked him when his birthday was.
His nonchalant and also smug response? “Today.”
I mean, who does that, Reader?? Who wouldn’t say, when you’re making lunch plans, “that date sounds great, it’s also my birthday!” to give someone a heads-up to at least get a card.
Someone who gets a pay back some day, that’s who, Reader.
Since his birthday happens to fall on Groundhog Day, I haven’t forgotten it since, which says a lot because basically I have a super tough time planning in advance for birthdays. My intentions are always better than my execution. With a lot of things, frankly. Take today, for example. I had big plans to have a lot of tidying done around here because I’m having a couple of friendies over for dinner tomorrow, yet here I sit with not one finger lifted yet, and at the rate I’m finishing up the wine that was opened, it’s going to be a surprise to myself what I actually accomplish tonight. Again, intentions exceed execution.
Fast forward to his birthday this year.
I was PLANNED AHEAD.
My car had a flat tire so I set My Mister off on a caking for this birthday – he had errands to run on that Friday and I was busy working – and I was picking the birthday boy up for lunch the following day.
My Mister was given good direction by Trixie the Cake Expert of what to get from one of my favorite local bakeries.
- Chocolate.
- Not too feminine in decoration.
That was basically it. I mean, what else is there to say.
So he found a really good cake.
Do you remember that time where I mentioned I’m doing intermittent fasting?
It’s important to remember that right now.
Because it was Friday night and I was in bed, waiting for My Mister to come home from his job.
And I started thinking about that cake, sitting out there all alone in the kitchen.
Feeling unloved.
And I was hungry, because it was well into my fasting hours. I mean, technically it was only four hours into my 16-hour fasting hours, so barely past dinner, but ssshhhhh….Trixie knew there was cake, so close and yet so far away.
She got up to take a look at it. Arguing with herself that she could always just pick up another one on the way out to pick up the birthday boy. And also, he kinda deserves it if she eats a piece in advance anyway, due to the birthday lunch trickery he pulled on her that one time.
It made total sense.
Trixie stood over that cake for a good minute, her fork poised. Knowing once the first fork went in, we were committed to it at that point.
Guess what happened next, Reader?
“Trixie realized this is not the way to intermittent fast, nor is it acceptable to eat a cake you purchased for your friend! and so Trixie put the fork back in the drawer and went back to bed.”
Or another scenario possibly unfolded.
“Trixie stood over that cake, then began singing softly, “Happy birthdayyyy to you…..happpyyy birthdayyyyyy to youuuuuuuu” as she forked into that cake and shoveled a bite right into her cakehole.”
Need we say more? A picture’s worth all the words or something like that, Reader.
My Mister came home as I was eating this very delicious birthday cake.
Him, asking as he came in the front door and could see the light on in the kitchen, “What are you doing up??”
TrixieBB: “Something I should be ashamed about.”
Once he rounded the corner and assessed the cake damages, he decided to fork into it, too, and we both enjoyed Choo’s birthday cake, a day early.
Well, not just both of us. Kitty Purry had some frosting, too.
I considered bringing a half-eaten cake to the birthday boy. My Mister told me that was even more unacceptable than eating his cake in the first place.
The following day, on the way out to see him, I picked up another cake.
They didn’t have any chocolate, they had strawberry, which was fine, but I assured the birthday boy that the cake we enjoyed the night before was far better. Just so he knows, I bought him a really good cake.
And this is really how I like to enjoy other people’s birthdays, Reader. Eating their cakes. And then eating their replacement cakes with them. And then taking the remainder of the cake home because the birthday boy is dieting. It was the birthday cakes that kept on giving. To me, Reader. Happy Your Birthday to me.