While at McCarren International Airport, prepping to leave Las Vegas, I fetched Suzanne and me a couple of Diet Cokes to keep us awake on our flight home. (Fantastic vacations are exhausting.) Let me translate for you, in case you can’t see the price for a 20-ounce soda in this photo: $4.09, before airport tax– which puts the price darn close to five whole buckaroos. And one soda is not nearly enough for me, no matter how many hours I’m going to be flying. It’s a lucky thing I had won $20 at a penny slot machine in one of the casinos we visited on our Vegas jaunt, or I’d have been Diet Coke-parched for the remainder of the trip. Flashy silver Bow Tie o’ the Day offered to sell its glitzy self for me if I ran out of soda money before we got home. However, thanks to my superior penny slot gambling skills, Bow Tie’s sacrifice was not necessary. My neckwear is so charitable regarding my quaffing needs.
Bigly gratitude for the birthday greetings y’all took the time to send my way yesterday. You make a girl o’ many ties and bow ties feel important. Y’all da bomb! I’m blessed to have big-hearted friends and readers. And I’m blessed to be fifty-damn-five.
For my Sabbath birthday, I donned balloons Bow Tie o’ the Day; sugar skeletons Cape o’ the Day; paw prints Sloggers Garden Shoes o’ the Day; and “Best. Life. Ever” Cufflinks o’ the Day. What a Day o’ the Day! And, no, your eyes are not playing tricks on you: I gave in and bought my airport saddle purse, which I call the Purse o’ My Life. I call it that because I’ve never had a purse before, and I will probably never buy another one. Once I saw the saddle purse, I could not move forward in my life without it. (I will write a post about the saddle purse saga, which I have already titled in my mind: A Tale O’ Two Purses.)
Suzanne took me to birthday brunch at BISTRO, in the SLC Avenues. I was pleased trout was on their menu. There’s nothing better than trout and eggs. Later, Suzanne made me a German chocolate birthday cake. We fully intended to invite Suzanne’s parents over to have a piece, but somehow the cake went mostly missing as soon as it got frosted. Oops! Doh!
I debated between actually going to brunch, or just sleeping in. We got home from our travels Saturday, and we were still beat. Sleeping in was only a brief thought for me though. Suzanne had made birthday brunch reservations, and I decided I better take advantage of that– since one year she completely forgot my birthday even existed. Poor Suzanne. Her sin of forgetfulness happened nearly two decades ago, and I still harass her about it every year. And for the past five years, I’ve done it in this public forum. It’s obvious I forgave her, and we can guffaw about her little faux pas. I razz her annually about it with gratitude and adoration for each and every OTHER day we’ve been together.
