Happy birthday to me! It is day 3 of 2013, day 2 of my attempting to re-establish blogging as a habit, AND my birthday, go me!
This was a pretty awesome birthday. Facebook gets a bad rap, but man is it an excellent birthday feel-good vibe delivery system, helping you remember people you really like and need to see more often and making you laugh — my friends/people I have not seen in 10 years and may never see again sure are funny! Plus phone calls, texts, etc., and I could not be happier.
I didn’t do that much today (saving myself for a little shindig I organized for tomorrow), but my sister Penny and I got dinner at my favorite pizza place in SF, which also happens to have a very cute and nice manager that I have been semi-stalking, if him actually being present every third time I eat there and me eating there once a quarter is semi-stalking, since I moved to SF.
It’s nice, having this little crush on a stranger. Just as I can wishfully gaze at the pizza left on my plate and wish I could finish it because it is JUST THAT GOOD, I can wistfully imagine, um, I don’t know. Actually, I guess I never imagined anything. I mean, aside from his taking my order… and then my number, dunh-dunh-dunh. Ha. Seriously, that is as far as I imagined and I made the part about imagining him asking for my number up. This is kind of starting to be a boring story. For heavens’ sake, we all have someone we think is cute IN THE WORLD, where did I think I was going with this?
Perhaps this story is slightly jazzed up by that fact that this evening, I briefly thought perhaps said manager was returning my little surreptitious glances… until I realized he was probably just seeing if Penny and I were done yet because another party was waiting for our table? No? In any case, this little 5-minute mini-drama unfolding in my head reminded me of one of my favorite scenes from one of my favorite movies, Desk Set, I’ve written about it before here, which is about pretty much the same thing: the brief romance, the drama, the intrigue… that wasn’t.
And I guess the point is, or what I’m discovering is, that whether you’re 36 (eek!) or 12, and I assume until you’re dead, you still kind of want the exact same things every birthday: knowing there are people out there that are thinking about you, and just a little bit of excitement, even if it’s just imagined, the sort you find on the Mexington Avenue Bus.
And I got that. Plus panna cotta with a pomegranate glaze and ginger snap cookies! Happy birthday to me!