So I'm wearing a tiara and my "I'm Not Dead Yet" t-shirt from Spamalot, and more people (one) have reacted to the shirt than to the tiara. Go figure. Perhaps someone will comment on it when I'm working out at the gym. I won't wear it into the shower, but I will certainly wear it for my workout.
I always like seeing what The Washington Post's horoscope has for me in its "if today is your birthday" entry. I must remember to ask younger son for his interpretation of it when he arrives this evening. Here's the published version:
This year you have an innate sense of independence. You will have opportunities to make certain situations more to your liking. If you are single, friendship will play a significant role in the meeting or development of your next relationship. If you are attached, check in with your significant others frequently to confirm that you are on the same page. Get behind a key mutual project together, and you might be surprised by how quickly the two of you can achieve that goal. Taurus can be very stubborn.
Seems somewhat rosy, but then an entry saying, "Watch out! You're going to be victimized in the coming year." probably wouldn't fly. I guess the entry above just doesn't seem that different from what I'd normally do.
Those pesky resolutions for the coming year of my life or the rest of the calendar year? I've got a couple but I think that, as older son does, I will keep them private. That will take away the chance of my flaming out in a public forum. I'll post next year at this time or perhaps on New Year's Day how I did or am doing. If I remember to. If I make the time to type something here. (I've resolved to be a more regular blogger before, and it does not work.)
I have been treating myself today, starting with a deluxe pedicure using one of the gift certificates the husband gave me. The deluxe comes from wrapping your calves in hot towels and, later, oiling them and rubbing them with hot rocks. This is pretty darn incredible in how good it feels.
I picked the loudest, shiniest color I could find because it would go with wearing a tiara. (I used a glittery polish on my last pedicure, and you would not believe how difficult it was to remove.) The technician asked if I also wanted a manicure; I declined. Had I gotten one, I guarantee that the polish would be cracked with 10 minutes of leaving the studio if not before or on my way out the door. Manicures are not my friend.
The rest of my birthday? I'm stretching it out to two days. Younger son arrives late this evening. I'm told that he and the husband will be making me a cake. Tomorrow we're having breakfast at the place with the best pancakes I've had since our favorite pancake place closed down. The we'll go to the city market for some tomatoes. I'm getting back into canning, and tomatoes are something I've always wanted to try. In my domestically healthful fantasies, I make spaghetti sauce from scratch using all natural ingredients. I also want to do some strawberry jam. Jam implies bread, and we are now out which means the bread-making is on the agenda as well. I'm trying to limit myself to things I want to do even if they are mundane such as running errands. It is nice to run errands if one can do it at a chosen pace and change the itinerary as desired.
And now? I could balance the checkbook, but that seems more like work. The statement's not going anywhere; doing the act of balancing it can wait. Maybe I'll do the New York Times crossword. Or not. It's my birthday (the 61st one as in I am now 60), and I'll do whatever I damn well please for a day or two.