End of the World, Boobies, and Birthday Cakes

Yesterday was 9/11. I always have difficulty writing something for that day. Seems everyone has something to say about it, and about the Quran-burning that was supposed to have happened last night (but thankfully didn’t), and I get that. I don’t really have anything to add to the countless blog posts that say it better than I can, so I just stay out of the fray. (Though I did suggest on Twitter that we need a new slogan…WWJB = What Would Jesus Burn?)

Yes, of course I also think of the events of 2001, but I see more than that. I have to; it’s my sister’s birthday. She hates that those planes crashing into the World Trade Center (and the Pentagon, and that field) fucked up her birthday, that 9/11 has become synonymous with disaster/tragedy/terrorism. I hate that she hates it, and am glad that she had a nice surprise party yesterday. She’d all but given up celebrating her birthday on her actual birthday.

Her birthday heralds mine since our birthdays are just a week apart. That’s right, come Saturday, I’ll be 44. Hard to believe, at least for me. I have no plans. I only wish that 44 is better than 43. I’m advocating no more hospitals for 44. We’ll see if it works.

Yikes, the next time my birthday falls on a Saturday will be 2021. I’ll be 55. Whoa. Good thing the Earth will be destroyed in 2012, I suppose.

Mom is doing a lot better. Her white count is back down to a reasonable level. Her endurance is still kinda crappy, but considering it was a month ago she was fighting for her life, and there were 16 days of hospitalization, it’s understandable she gets winded easily. She did make dinner last night, though, which seems another milestone toward recovery. Probably helps that she’s got to be sick of my microwave magic in the culinary arts. I cook about as well as I tan.

It’s also officially over a month since she had her last cigarette! Pretty amazing, since she was a smoker for close to 50 years. And for me, it’ll be 3 weeks on Tuesday…nearly a month by the time my birthday comes next weekend! I’ve seen friends who quit recently fall off the wagon due to shitstorms in their lives. It’s not easy, I know, and I hope they’ll get right back on the horse. Hell, if not for Mom, I’d probably have fallen off, too.

The cravings are still there, for sure…especially after meals or in the car. I just keep pushing forward one step at a time and chewing on drinking straws like they’re going out of style. I imagine I have to smell a lot better than I did a few weeks ago; that helps, too. Y’know, for all those ladies knocking my door down.

Which reminds me…if any of you hotties wants to show up and pop out of my birthday cake, just let me know. Boobies and birthday cakes make me smile.

Cake not required.