Do I look like I’ve been in a fight?”
Dear One had to think about that for awhile. I’d just been in the bathroom applying my new Almay intense i-color powder shadow 403 smoky-i for hazels. I’ve never put eyeshadow on before. Or, more accurately, I’ve never put it on and left it on. But I’ve been reading Laurie Cabot’s The Witch in Every Woman – go ahead, laugh – and I like what she says about ceremonial face-painting. If you look her up on youtube you’ll see she has a spiral tattoo on her face, and her smoky eyes beat all contestants, and if fact she does look quite ludicrous. I’m not there yet, but I did think it might be good to add a bit of drama now that I’m heading for my 51st birthday.
“What are those things on the table?” asked Dear One.
“They are serpentine paper blow-out noisemakers for my birthday.”
“Or, in Spanish, according to the package, they are ESPANTASUEGRAS. Eight of them. What a lovely word. Really makes me want to party.”
“You never want to party. You hate birthdays. You have never wanted to celebrate your birthday since I’ve known you.”
He is right. But you know how you think you feel one way and then you realize you were programmed? This year of daily doing some new thing causes me to question my programming. Regarding birthdays, I think what happened is that my mother, being a secret Jehovah’s Witness and therefore inwardly decrying birthday parties because they were celebrated in the bible only by Herod and Pilate, spiritually inoculated me against birthday parties while appearing to make me quite a spectacular annual cake, with edible silver beads and everything. Somehow without saying a word, she filled the cake with magic, anti-birthday-party dust which filled my being and turned me into my own biggest party-pooper for five dour and understated decades. Well I’ll be a party-pooper no more! Out with the party-pooper and in with the espantasuegras and the sparkly eyeshadow!
I went to Premier Moisson and picked out my cake today. They have big ones and little ones. They’re exquisite. You can get a foot-high cake covered in white chocolate and fresh oranges. Dear One continues to be surprised. He doesn't know yet that I’m thinking it’s time I learned how to make margaritas.
I wish you a even more sun, a lot of espantasuegras to blow each year and bigger cake next time.
Well, I am only 22 but I have not celebrated the day of my birth since 11. I somehow feel I should thank my mother for giving a birth that one day, long time ago.