Happy Birthday to The Great Husband. Today, because it is his day, we shall eat carrot cake (after I make it in our new stove). Today, because it is his day, he shall watch his new, enormous, you gotta be freakin kiddin me that thing's huge, television, and I shall make sure all the laundry and ironing and such is all done so that tonight we can both sit on the couch to say repeatedly to each other, "That picture is really huge," and "We're all alone," and "Good grief, that television is enormous," and I'll try to get him to watch The 39 Steps with me quick, before the updated stuff arrives from DirecTV and all our recorded shows are lost. Today, he gets to take the garbage and recycling to the dump and recycling place, including the large pile of paper from my office clear-out, work on house remodeling projects with his brother, and peruse the hard-to-find book his daughter found in a university library, then found online, and then ordered with speedy delivery to be sent to him, because it is his birthday. No party (he's not a fan of parties), no balloons (because what would we do with them?), and none of his offspring in sight. Happy Birthday, honey. Today, you're all mine.
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