cinquante trois

Wait, what day is it? July 27? Shit.

Today is my mom's birthday. Sadly, I don't get to spend the day with her like I did last year. And come to think of it, I didn't get her a present this year, either (and I sold the veil she's holding in the picture, so she can't have that).

But she's back home in Michigan whooping it up playing musical cottages with various family members up north where they don't have things like postal service or those cell-you-lar telephones that give you the cancer in your brains, so it's not like she'll notice anyway.

Well, OK, they do have cell phones, but you have to go to the top of the special hill to get any reception and you'll only be able to make out every third word so you'd better hope the person on the other end says filler words like um, uh, well, like, and you know a lot. They probably do have mail service, too (by pony express), so I'm out of excuses.

Luckily for me, my mom and stepdad will be venturing west in September to check in on their rogue California-moving children (my stepsister lives here, too), so I'll get the chance to be a good daughter then.

Perhaps I'll drag her out into the desert to spy on the Bunniculas. What? It's obviously a great present. She'd love it!

Want to know the kicker? She transferred $100 into my bank account today. A round of applause for my mom, yes?

...

Happy birthday, Mommy! We love you!