* I had a birthday, and it was grand as far as birthdays after thirty go (which is to say that there were lots of naps). Middle Child got to me first, presented me with a handful of crumpled bills, and said "I know it's not vewy much, but I wanted to give you FREE dollars just to spend on you, one for each son you are raising, in case my bruvvers forget." Little Child is very much into paper snowflakes lately, and crafted a special one with numerous tiny heart-shaped cutouts radiating from the center. Big Child wrote me a poem, which I'd love to share with you because it's hilarious but it's too identifying; in it he names, among other things I do in life, my hatred of The Undertoad, which has become the stuff of household legend (that damn toad!). And Hotter, oh Hotter, he baked me the very saddest and crookedest of dried-out gluten-free cakes because I said I wasn't baking my own damn cake this damn year, and after I'd added a layer of flesh-colored vanilla buttercream it looked regrettably like a confectionary rendition of a big crooked boob. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, it said, HERE IS A REMINDER OF WHAT AGING IS DOING TO YOUR BODY, and I had to laugh. It was actually kind of perfect. That and all of the naps combined with the outpouring of love and well-wishes from various social media made this quite possibly the best birthday I've had so far.
* Aging still sucks; we had an ice storm and I knew before I even opened my eyes by the rigor mortis that had set in overnight. *sigh*
* There is no delicate way to put this part, so look away if you're secretly a coworker of mine or estranged biofamily or anyone who doesn't want to hear about my sex-life, but here is the thing: I had some...and I will attempt to be circumspect in case my children ever end up reading this and just go with "body modification to help solve a very personal problem"...done at the same-ish time as I got the Virginia Woolf Tramp Stamp, figuring that the end of a year when I'd already met my deductible and maxed my out-of-pocket was a good time to do it, and there was a requisite thirty-day healing period wherein abstinence was necessary. At the time I was all cavalier about it, because hey, perfect timing since I would want to stay off my back for a bit ANYWAY, amirite? RIMSHOT! And well, we didn't quite make it the full thirty days but apparently after this kind of procedure SOME people find that The Sex is extra-glorious, and to say anymore than that would just be bragging so we'll leave it at "I think part of my recent funk was related to celibacy, with which I apparently do not deal well, and things are looking MUCH brighter now."
* Work is going really well, Crazy Coworker aside, and I actually haven't had to work with her since the last time I mentioned it. Apparently she's changed her availability in such a way that it'll be very easy for me to avoid her for the most part, too, so that's nice. The whole Crazy Coworker debacle has brought it to my attention that things at Eclecstasy are not QUITE as perfect as they initially seemed, but that is kind of a relief. I was starting to feel like maybe the company was just too good for me, and finding out that there is the odd steaming pile of bullshit amidst the roses makes the job less stressful, weirdly enough.
* Having ceased to drink my feelings, which was becoming a rather too-frequent coping method, I have started to take Poppy for walks when I would recently have had an adult beverage. It's pretty okay as far as stress relievers go, and Poppy is delighted in her sudden good fortune.
* How are all of YOU?