Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Birthday Present

It’s been about a month since my last birthday and I think it’s time to report. I turned 35ish in June and was pleasantly surprised with a birthday party. All (well, mostly all) of my finest friends were there. As usual, the food was magnificent, the atmosphere divine and the kids were with a babysitter.

Towards the end of the evening, I ended up with a pile of presents at the base of my chair and everyone said “open ‘em! Open em!” This is awkward for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love presents. I love giving them and I’m not going to lie about loving to receive them. But it’s more fun to open them in the privacy of your own privacy. This way, you don’t have to fake that you love what was given (KIDDING!)

I was spoiled this year. Spouse bought me Photoshop CS3 (which has by far turned out to be THE BUGGIEST piece of software crap that I’ve ever used – more on that later. Nevertheless, it is still necessary and much appreciated). Daughter o’ Vera (aka Elvie) gave me a shirt from India. The tag in it reads “Free Size.” Funny! The Barfusses (yes that’s their real last name) brought some cilantro lime air refresher stuff that reminds me of Mexico. My former office-mate and guardian angel for life gave me a shirt with a giant hibiscus on it and flip flops. This was wrapped in a bathroom garbage can. Funny again! My sister is going to make me a portfolio for my photographs (if I ever get my photos to her), my dad gave me a giant towel and cash, and the parents took all of us to the Indigo Girls and Brandi Carlile. The Winder and her love interest (aka Spouse of Winder) gave us a rockin’ tube to pull behind the boat. I received flowers from my SAHM friend across the street (I must come up with a name for her), and as is the case with all of my birthdays, I received foot care products from two different people. I wonder why this happens every year? This might shed some light on that.



EWE! Yuck!

There is one present that stood out significantly. Not because it was the best present (unless of course you are Vera), but because it is relevant to the rabidrunner. Vera had all of my blog entries bound into a book! She added photos and fun fonts. Fantastic! It’s now sealed for all time of 200 years for my posterity.

7 comments:

Mandee said...

We would've brought you a birthday present had we been INVITED! Aaron is going to be so hurt when he finds out. Like, he will probably cry. (ha, wink, jk.) But really, sorry we missed your birthday- party or no party. We are crappy friends.

Vera said...

Actually, the reason rabid got a party is ....Vera is a huge suck-up who likes to see her name in print. The nicer I am, the more she will wirte about how nice I am. It's all part of my diobolical brain-washing scheme........If I could just get her to drink the kool-aid instead of that darn crystal lite I could take all her shoes and CD's.....but not the 80's stuff!

The McMillans said...

Vera, perhaps you haven't recieved the latest memo on the rabid's drinking pleasures. Give it 6 more weeks and it will be a different concoction. Notice drinking device and beverage changes about every 6 months.
But, here's how I have managed to corrupt the sweat darling into drinking just about anything I want. Tell her it's a skinny decaf tripple caffe latte...she'll do a double take, but when she realizes that it's essentially diet, she'll partake. Maybe we really do need to take her shoes and replace them with a twelve step program to foot recovery, after the twelve step program she needs from drinking your kool-aid.

By the way, do you have the nifty pouring device like in the commercials?

rabidrunner said...

Did someone mention a 12 step program? That’s my specie ality!

1.We admit we were powerless over our ugly feet - that our feet have become unmanageable

2.We believe that a Power greater than ourselves created our feet and can restore them as to help others remain sane when seeing them

3.We made a decision when we started to run that we must turn our feet and over to miles and miles of pavement pounding

4.We have made a searching and fearless moral inventory of shoes

5.We have admitted to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our ugly feet

6.Were entirely ready to have all ugly foot abnormalities removed surgically by a trained professional (not the dude down the street that owns the running shoe store)

7.We have humbly asked others to remove their shoes so as to show we’re not the only ones with ugly feet

8.We have made a list of all persons we had caused to vomit, and we are willing to make amends to them all

9.We have made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would cause them to vomit again

10.We have continued to take personal inventory of our shoes and when we break into Vera’s house to borrow her shoes, we make sure we tell her after you have put them back and oh make sure there’s some powder in there

11.We have sought through meditation to massage our feet daily

12.Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to other people with ugly feet, and to practice these principles in all our affairs

I'll start working on a 12 step program for my current beverage addiction.

Lilly said...

i wanted to write a poem.
but upstairs there tweren't anyone home.
i'm not very smart
but ma taught me to fart
so with Stinky i shan't be alone.

i am here rabid. i have a blog too now. megaladon3.

XANA-DIVA-DELUX said...

Not to fear, we skaters have the same issues with feet. I suggest wrapping your feet in cheese cloth, dipping them in Olive oil, and then putting grape leaves all over them. Leave for two days and you will be amazed at the recovery of your feet. As for addictions, those that give us energy are needed to survive...others, well, lets just say that my neighbor hasn't received his magazines in weeks, due to confiscation, he is surprisingly more edgy with me lately.

Winder said...

I know I am posting my comment a little late. I have my reasons you will have to watch to blog in a few weeks for the explanation. But, I am glad you have messed up feet. Then I get to see the look on my dear husbands face when you mail him the dead toenails!