What a lovely day
Oh, goodness. Thank you so much for the birthday wishes, everybody; it was so nice! Thank you, Ruth, and witchypoo, and Tattoo Queen, and
Lucia, and (blogless, alas) Kathleen, and Erica; what a nice thing to find "happy"s from you all. Thank you.
Birthday itself was determinedly lazy. I knit, and watched the World Cup, and read the newspaper a bit, and DH came home early from work and took me out to dinner, with my mom having (surprise!) booked us into Blue Ginger and pledged to look after the children. After finding something to wear in which I did not look like a sausage, off we went. The restaurant was good, the drinks list baroque (a Peach Manhattan sounded like a good idea), the wine list even had Ecole 41, which I've hunted for a couple of years now without success, and wonder of wonders, I didn't have a hangover when I woke this morning. Thank Heavens. I don't normally do bourbon, and was dreading the aftermath. (re)Discovered that the reason I don't do bourbon is that I, uh, don't like it very much (oh, yeah!). DH also gave me a gift certificate to Wild & Woolly, bless him; they're starting to recognize him. My dad didn't forget to call and say happy birthday, for a nice change, so a nifty day all in all.
I'm 42 now. I don't feel particularly old, though I have had trouble remembering my age for the last several years--it's not actually something I think about much (when the kids ask me, I have to do the math). I like being calmer, and wiser, and having made it through the stuff that I have and come out the other side of it all. I am of course quite mad. I look forward to becoming an ever-crankier batty old New England lady.
Speaking of making it through...Yes, England have made it through to the next round in the World Cup, though not by playing particularly well. Here's what the Financial Times had to say Monday: "At this World Cup party, England have become the boorish uncle nobody really wanted to invite, who turns out to be just as tedious as feared." Sums it up rather well. Australia had what the guys at Univision called "un robo! un robo!"* (penalty in the last seconds that cost them the match). Poor Socceroos. Brazil appear to be saving up their brilliance for some time in the future when it may be needed; for now, they're demolishing everyone in sight with one hand tied behind their back. Today it was Ghana. As of today's match, Ronaldo has now scored more goals in World Cup play than anyone in history.
Knitting! Oh, right! Well, I'm in the very last bits of sleeve cap for the malabrigo (swoon, thud) (dammit!) and hope to have it finished tomorrow evening so I can begin to wear it always and everywhere for the rest of my natural life. Then I'll start something absurdly complicated so I can go properly bonkers.
A quiet, pictureless post. 'Til next time, then.
*un robo: a robbery or theft