Birthday? Check.

My birthday was fine.  It was un-complicated and undemanding.  I received a funny card, my favorite cake (carrot cake from whole foods), and flowers (Gerber Daisies) from Andy.  Best of all though , I snuggled under a blanket with my Ernie, who is generally only cuddly for 2-3 minutes at a time.  After waking too early, he joined me on the couch for some rest. Bert, the perpetual snuggler spent the day alternating between climbing all over me like a little billy goat and burrowing in my lap and belly.  These are the gifts of my life.
And.......... I got to help Ernie make me an orange cake with an orange candle that he blew out for me.  Guess who loves orange??  There are many happy pieces amidst this puzzle of a day.

Technically the occasion has passed.  But really, birthday-ishness will be behind me once I tackle cards from friends and family.  Too overwhelmed, I threw them in a stack with bills and other  matters to be dealt with.

Last year, my sister, Jilan sent a birthday gift for my son and included a vindictive note for me between "the gift" and the outer wrapping.  She had her sweet daughter address the package and sent it return receipt certified.  Probably because no thank you note could be expected and she wanted to be certain her bullet found its target.  Trojan horse biznatch.  Who does this?  Consequently, I am reluctant if not disinterested in reading whichever sentiments have been enclosed in this year's salutation?  An emotional equivalent of Anthrax?
I don't understand knowing and saying hurtful things to a person, never exercising an urge to apologize, and then expecting to make nice nice for holidays.

I feel taxed by reminders (in the form of cards for "special occasions") of what is not to be.  It doesn't work for me. Agitated and stuck, I avoid  opening those cards sure to make me smile, from those with whom I enjoy trusting and forgiving relations.  I asked that Andy hide the Trojan Horse "gift" in the garage until I felt I could open it with intent to donate, re-gift, or sell on ebay.  Andy no longer remembers where he put it.  So Jilan's little time-bomb is now more of a time capsule to be found, perhaps, when we move one day.  By then, it might seem funny or insignificant.  What a nifty little memento from her, a signature move on her part.