Dear diary,

Dad and I returned from buying a birthday cake, which he almost destroyed by TILTING and STUFFING the box behind my driver’s seat to his MB E430. The damn Paris Baguette place didn’t have someone on board (most of the time) to write a personalized message.

We also bought birthday cards: one from his parents and one from me. When we choose birthday cards, we are particular about the wording and make sure that the ’emotion’ behind the card is applicable to the relationship with and personality of the celebrant.

While I would have preferred the cheaper card, there is no mention of the usual script, such as “Happy Birthday”. So this time the cake won’t have the writing of the birth year. Instead there is a small message sign for “Happy Birthday”.

Anyway, he wants us to pick him up at his house and carpool together to church tomorrow. I guess I’m the driver to ALL THESE HUMANZ, huh? And afterwards we will go to our favorite steak house and then go home to blow the candles, cut the cake, and open the cards.

That’s how we celebrate birthdays in this old house.


Swollen Kitty

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