The day we flew away to Arkansas, whose nickname is apparently The Natural State, was also Suzanne’s birthday. She joins me in the double nickels of 55-dom. The photo here of Suzanne and her birthday “cake” is from two birthdays ago, in Delta– our last summer there. I am proud of the potato chip cake I made her. Suzanne and potato chips are tight. I’m betting this cake’s one of her fave birthday cakes ever. Hint: Don’t ask her to share her potato chips with you. You will lose an arm or two. If you wanna eat chips, it’s strictly BYOC.
Because we were in planes and airports on her birthday this year, it wasn’t possible for me to throw Suzanne a party. But as I sat on the plane, I suddenly remembered the potato chip cake from 2017, so I bought Suzanne the teeny, teeny, teeny can of Pringles they sell on the plane for bigly dollars. The it’s-Suzanne’s-birthday-so-she-must-be-presented-with-potato-chips tradition lives!
For her birthday, I gave Suzanne something she deserves. I gave her peace and quiet from me. I can be tiring, and she needed a break– especially before a bigly dose of vacation with me. On the flight from SLC to Atlanta, we watched different movies. On the flight from Atlanta to Little Rock, our seats weren’t near each other, and I didn’t do what I’ve done before on the rare occasions when that’s happened: I didn’t persuade other people to switch seats so Suzanne and I could sit together. Nope, I sat in my assigned seat four rows behind her. I gave her an intermission from the variety show I seem to have been born to be. I gave her all the stillness one can get in a commercial jet plane filled to its gills with passengers.
BTW I also knew she would find “birthday” jewelry in Arkansas. I was exactly right about that.
You didn’t whine—I was there. You asked politely and the flight attendant found you to be charming—you didn’t disappoint with your squeals of joy when she brought the wing to you.