Today is my birthday.
Woke up and it was sunny and about 55 degrees and I said, “Oh yeah, baby.” The universe, she is good.
The husband, boy, and I went to have brunch in the city. We tried to go to The Clinton Baking Shop on the Lower East Side, but it was slammed with an hour wait, and I can wait for a lot of things, but food isn’t one of them. So we went to the Cowgirl Hall of Fame in the West Village, and I was made enormously happy by cheese grits and biscuits on steroids (size of a toddler’s head!) and lots and lots of coffee. Comfort food. Food you can caulk your insides with. Food that hours later, you’ll still be going, “No, man, I’m good. Please don’t say the word ‘food’ to me anymore, please?”
I used to go to Cowgirl all the time when I first moved to NYC and worked at Penguin publishing down the street. It was that little touch of Texas in the big city. Lots of nice memories. After brunch, we did what I love to do probably more than just about anything else outside of daydreaming–we wandered. No agenda. No destination in mind. Just walking the streets of New York, stopping in little places that looked interesting (a crafts store, Li-Lac Chocolates for fudge in case I change my mind about never being hungry ever again, Books of Wonder, Forbidden Planet for comics and some graphic novels. And then we splurged and took a cab ride home over the Brooklyn Bridge, and I was reminded of how much I love this city and spring and birthdays and wandering and being alive and having a past and being able to look behind me and see some of it through dirty cab windows.
And then I remembered how incredibly car sick I get in moving vehicles.
So I spent the rest of the cab ride with my head resting on the open window, begging the universe, Captain Marvel, Wonder Woman, the pavement, and any diety who might actually exist and want to help out, not to let me barf. And then my kid said, “Hey, Mommy, want some fudge?”
I’m so jealous of people who don’t get motion sick. And people who can read in moving vehicles? Do not speak to me of them. (It bears mentioning that if someone said to me, “You can lose a limb forever or vomit once,” I’d answer, “Hold on, let me think about it…”)
I didn’t lose my bday breakfast, fortunately. We came home, and I read, “You born today” which seemed to be pretty hopeful, though I stopped placing stock in horoscopes after I found out I share a birthday with Rupert Murdoch and Antonin Scalia. AAAHHHHHHH!!!! Scary. Although, apparently, it’s also Douglas Adams’ bday today, and I will wholeheartedly claim him for my team. Well, he’s dead now, sadly, but I don’t care–he’s still on my bday team! We must fight the forces of bday evil, mwahahahahaha!!!!
On Thursday, I turned in the first 779 pages of THE SWEET FAR THING. I turned in another 140 pages on Friday. And I should turn in the last 100 pages tomorrow. So, basically, I’ve written the page equivalent of Bill Clinton’s MY LIFE. Ay yi yi. I see many cuts in my future. Many, many cuts. Also, I’m not sure that any of it makes sense, but hey, there’s atmosphere! Lots and lots of…atmosphere!
Oh, I won’t think about that today. Spring is in the air. I’m a whole year older. And there’s fudge in my kitchen.
I said I couldn’t eat it? I lied.