Day of Birth

(Posted a day late because of problems with the Blogger site last night)
I am turning 52 today, but I count the actual day of my birth as BD #1—therefore, this is actually my 53rd birthday. My birthday is number 24423 in pi.

5:55 AM. Alarm goes off. Bill tells me ‘Happy BDay’ and gives me a nice backrub. We get up at 6:15. Ernie wants out the front door (has to powder his muzzle) but remembers to wag politely.

6:50 am. My mom calls to sing Happy Birthday. Yes, 6:50 AM. This is an annual tradition—she calls us all first thing in the morning on our BDs, and she’s always determined to be the first one to get in the HBD-from-a-distance wishes. This year she wins!

7:55 am. Found a Pig Latin translator on line. Don’t worry too much about how I found it. Appyhay irthdaybay ootay eemay!

I’m watching my morning dose of “Buffy,” which right now is in Season 6. Was half paying attention but just now realized that this is the episode where, at the very end, Warren comes after Buffy and tries to shoot her and ends up killing an important cast member, after which another one goes dark-eyed starkers crackerdog. A sad, sad episode (#119- “Seeing Red”), and the turning point for everything that will happen between now and the end of Season 7.

How come the depressing shows are always on my Birthday? (Rhetorical question—no answer needed.)

8:06 am. Shower, a nice, long slow one. This is going to be a relaxing day if it kills me!

According to Cosmo Doogood, it’s not only Cheese Day, but my birthday is also shared by Bill Maher, astronaut Buzz Aldrin, and Frederico Fellini.

I check emails and find that my story on pedestrian deaths in Portland is on the Vanguard front page. Being as it's the Friday edition, that means it will stay through Monday. Yay!

9:30 am. I head off to Blades for a cut-and-color. For all of you who aren’t in the know, I’d be white-haired without this. It has little to do with age and everything to do with the fact that I began to gray at age 21 and was salt-and-peppered by 30. Kind of makes you feel all warm and happy about modern hair chemistry, doesn’t it?

12:30 pm. Back home, after stopping for a hot dog at the Purdee’s Weiner Wagon. (Great dogs, don’t ask any more about it.) My hair looks great—Ivy (hairstylist) put a plummy cast on it and a dark streak in front. I am officially cool.

I devour my hot dog under the careful scrutiny of a very serious-looking ancient poodle and while watching disk 5 of season 4 of Felicity.

I check my email and find a birthday howdy from two Grey School friends, Aaran and Rainmaker, plus an e-card from Aaran. Thank you! I also find an email from New Page with the cover art for my “Gargoyles” book.

I contemplate the fact that I should be in my Composition Theory class right now. Thankfully, Jonathan is taking notes for me.

I check my answering machine to find birthday messages from Erin (10:18 am) and Scott (12:17 pm). Scott wishes me a happy inauguration day. Yay!

Life is good.

1:15 pm. Katie calls for a “live” happy b-day from Alaska! She tells me to watch out for a present that’s in the mail, and talks about a baby moose who is wandering around her newspaper office’s parking lot.

1:30 pm. I leave at 1:30 to head for PSU, where I’m doing a taped interview of a subject for my “Writing About People” class. He’s a young rocket scientist. No, really—he is!

2:05pm. I sit in plaza of the Faboriz Maseeh College of Engineering and Computer Science. I phone my interview subject—he’s a block away and on his way here. This place is amazing—a futuristic blend of ceiling-to-floor glass walls, neon, and shiny metallic surfaces. I feel as if I’ve been dropped onto a Star Trek set.

4:10 pm. I arrive home again. Katie's present is in the mailbox—a book: Ravens in Winter. Yay! I call her and we have a nice chat.

My interview went well. I’m meeting my subject for interview #2 on Monday afternoon and have been invited to the Wednesday evening meeting of the Portland State Aerospace Society, otherwise known as PSAS. Repeat: I am officially cool.

5:30 pm. Bill calls—he’s on his way home and we have 7:15 reservations for dinner at The Ringside. I can hear a steak calling my name, not to mention a basket of the most famous onion rings in Portland.

10:30 pm. We’re home. After a “small” (ha) basket of Ringside onion rings, I had a blood rare rib eye steak, while Bill went for fire-grilled wild Pacific salmon. Major yums. We finished with coffee, which the tuxedo-clad waiter presented via a cool coffee service with cream and rough lumps of white and turbinado sugar.

After that, we drove by Piece of Cake, where we got two cupcakes: one chocolate chantilly and one lemon coconut. We came home and I got to open my presents, then Bill made me blow out a candle and we had bites of cupcake. We only ate a few bites of cupcake; the rest of them plus the Ringside doggie bags—are in the fridge. Too much food for one sitting!

As I write this Bill is on the couch under the magick blanket, already falling asleep, while my eyes are heavy as I prepare to check my email. It’s been a lovely day of birth.

Sleep tight, everyone….