Lest you think I am a total Scrooge (I am) let me pause in my Christmas ranting to tell you something that makes me really happy this time of year. There are several things. But heading up the list is MY BIRTHDAY, which is coming up on Wednesday. People, I was born 11 days before Christmas, and because my Mom is that kind of mother, I never once in childhood lost my day to the big holiday looming soon after. December 14th has always been, and will always be, my favorite day of the year.
Now, getting other kids to come to my party was always a challenge. And by the time I was ten, I’d settled into a routine of dinner and a movie with Mom, and opening presents. I do love presents. I could almost always count on getting a book or two. In fact, Mom probably bought the books first, before she got me anything else. Because books have always been my haven. Approximately the only command I will obey without question is “Just go READ YOUR BOOK”. The desire to read consistently overpowers my ODD soul’s need to defy a direct imperative.
When Christmas gets to be too much, and I completely lose it, I can go read a book. For that matter, when anything gets to be too much, if I’ve got a good book, I’ve got a good escape. Books are my safety net, and I never travel without one. I have a car book, a carry-on luggage book, a bedside book, an office book, a living room book, and a bathroom book. Seriously.It’s one of the reasons our shelves are so crowded. I must have a go-to at all times. And Scott isn’t all that different on this score. Although he is usually reading two tomes at any give time, his are almost always really intense stuff, where mine are a mix of serious reading and fluff.
Mom has never missed giving me a gift, ever, and yes, that does matter. Last year, she somehow managed to have a live Gardenia delivered to my house ON my exact birthday, and this year, I got my gift several months early while we were in Florida together. (It was awesome, but not the kind of gift to place on a blog, either.)
Adulthood has been a mixed bag. Some years, and this will only increase as I get older, my birthday has been almost completely forgotten. (When I think I have it bad, I remember one sister-in-law’s husband is a Dec. 28 birthday. Ouch.). Other years, it’s like I have two years of birthday fun in one. This year has been of the second variety, and I’m going to be telling you about my birthday this week, because there’s just too much to fit into one post.
Look out world, this year, the Jester Queen turns 35.