On my 27th birthday I went to school all day. My boyfriend made the comment that "Only really really good girls go to class on their birthday" and it's true. I told him I had always been a good girl.. with occasional moments of wicked.
My classmate brought snacks to critique, god bless her. She made her own bread. The kind that is long like french bread and twisted. It was perfect. She also made her own hummus. I would have taken photos but I was too busy shoving handfuls of it into my head. This was the first hummus I've ever had and I wanted to put a straw in it and just suck it up. This classmate is also an ex-pilot that is moving to Russia in four weeks. I sort of want to be her.
That morning Shea dropped the car off and caught me coming out of the shower. He yelled, "Oh my god, it's your birthday!" and attacked with hugs. I'm was like a dog when we were dating, if he showed any enthusiasm toward me my tail wagged. He even bought me a card (I'm pretty sure men hate card shopping) and he mentioned how long it took him to find the right one. It must have because he was at my place over an hour later then I expected him to be. The card says, "Jack wasn't nimble. Jack wasn't quick. He sat on your cake and burned his... corduroys."
Then he sang a song about my cat. A homage to how lazy and affectionate she is.
That night I went out with a couple girlfriends for sushi and ice cream. Unfortunately it was race week . Think cheapest Marti Gras you can image. The rednecks were out in full swing walking into oncoming traffic while cheering listlessly for Dale Earnheart . Women younger then me were getting paid to go to bars dressed like casual prostitutes and jump up and down while old men take cell phone photos. Both of which I saw on the way to ice cream.
We ate it on the beach at night while lightning struck over the ocean.
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