Happy Friggin' Birthday Again

My husband's birthday is this Sunday and all I have to say is "big whoop." After 25 years of marriage, I won't be pulling an all-nighter with the homemade cards and the baking. As for gifts, I already got him everything he needs years ago. Fortunately--for both of us-- our dear friend Gabby is a sensational baker and she's coming through with a cake, and I love her for that. But I must say that after a while birthdays get old, no pun intended. I mean, every year on that same date, you have to say "happy birthday," as if that's so original. And if you don't say it you are scum, and then the next day or a week later you see the person and you have to say you're sorry you forgot their birthday, like it's a federal holiday, and you hope it was happy.

Also, I have never understood why we celebrate the person who was born that day and not the woman who gave birth. In this particular case with my husband that woman is dead, so I would be totally off the hook, but many women with children are still alive and I think they deserve the gifts and the congratulations just for going through the whole ordeal.

Anyway, I got Mitch some presents I know for sure he won't like but too bad--it's a long story--and a card he might actually like, but none of that matters; at least that cake will be dynamite! I know because Gabby made the same one for my birthday. She's the greatest--maybe I'll get her a gift.