Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Happy Birthday To Me
by Tom Bozzo
As for those 38 years, I can't complain. Sure, Xtin's reflection on Roger O Thornhill reminds me that I could have a daintier nose, impeccably tailored suits, encyclopedic knowledge of the correct gratuity for every possible interaction with service industry employees, and the ability (not to mention opportunity) to survive multiple-martini lunches with my professional reputation intact. (*) Still, there are a lot worse things to be than an upper-middle class millennial American liberal.
Since we're going out to Harvest with friends this evening, we had cake with the kids yesterday. I got a swell haul of presents from them and Suzanne.
Clockwise from top left: Ken MacLeod's Hugo-nominated Learning the World; a box of marzipans and a chocolate computer from our friendly neighborhood chocolatier; car wash coupons for my no-longer-silver and therefore-shows-dirt ride; card decorated by John; book of Madison-area bike ride paths (much better shape will be required for 50-mile loops!); high-visibility windbreaker to reduce the risk of running afoul of giant SUVs on rides to work; new LEGO set.
Material goodies pale, of course, in comparison to these:
Not to mention good friends (and seldom-photographed loved one, naturally caught in mid-blink):
And more friends, furry and otherwise:
Not to mention all of you blog-pals out there as yet unmet in the "real" world!
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(*) A runner-up in the 'film character I'd like to be' department would be Jack Lemmon's Stanley Ford from How To Murder Your Wife. Ford, a comic strip artist, has an impeccable midtown Manhattan townhouse and the services of Terry-Thomas to ensure his martini glass is always properly chilled. For the benefit of certain readers, I admit that How To Murder Your Wife is badly marred by a lame-even-for-1965 misogynistic third act, and is only partly redeemed by the happy ending. I tend to compensate by skipping the offending material entirely when re-watching the film.
Subtract 38 years from the time stamp of this post, and shift the scene from the west side of Madison, Wisconsin to Summit, New Jersey, and you could find me getting ready to be born.
As for those 38 years, I can't complain. Sure, Xtin's reflection on Roger O Thornhill reminds me that I could have a daintier nose, impeccably tailored suits, encyclopedic knowledge of the correct gratuity for every possible interaction with service industry employees, and the ability (not to mention opportunity) to survive multiple-martini lunches with my professional reputation intact. (*) Still, there are a lot worse things to be than an upper-middle class millennial American liberal.
Since we're going out to Harvest with friends this evening, we had cake with the kids yesterday. I got a swell haul of presents from them and Suzanne.
Clockwise from top left: Ken MacLeod's Hugo-nominated Learning the World; a box of marzipans and a chocolate computer from our friendly neighborhood chocolatier; car wash coupons for my no-longer-silver and therefore-shows-dirt ride; card decorated by John; book of Madison-area bike ride paths (much better shape will be required for 50-mile loops!); high-visibility windbreaker to reduce the risk of running afoul of giant SUVs on rides to work; new LEGO set.
Material goodies pale, of course, in comparison to these:
Not to mention good friends (and seldom-photographed loved one, naturally caught in mid-blink):
And more friends, furry and otherwise:
Not to mention all of you blog-pals out there as yet unmet in the "real" world!
----------------------------------
(*) A runner-up in the 'film character I'd like to be' department would be Jack Lemmon's Stanley Ford from How To Murder Your Wife. Ford, a comic strip artist, has an impeccable midtown Manhattan townhouse and the services of Terry-Thomas to ensure his martini glass is always properly chilled. For the benefit of certain readers, I admit that How To Murder Your Wife is badly marred by a lame-even-for-1965 misogynistic third act, and is only partly redeemed by the happy ending. I tend to compensate by skipping the offending material entirely when re-watching the film.
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Happy Birtday! or should I say "Birthday week" which is what I celebrate ;-) Sounds like an all-around fantastic time.
Thanks, Cathy! I should note that, other than the presents, the pictures in the posts are from the iPhoto archives -- we're overdue to have folks over for dinner, actually.
Thanks, Corndog, JM, and Sara!
(P.S., Corndog, don't forget about your mix CD; let me know if I should just fill one for you as I see fit...)
(P.S., Corndog, don't forget about your mix CD; let me know if I should just fill one for you as I see fit...)
What Corndog Said.
(You do realise that those of us living in Essex County take one look at the phrase "from the west side of Madison to Summit, New Jersey" and think either well, that's only about seven miles on 24... or Madison has a west side.)
(You do realise that those of us living in Essex County take one look at the phrase "from the west side of Madison to Summit, New Jersey" and think either well, that's only about seven miles on 24... or Madison has a west side.)
Thanks, Ken. You mean there's more than one Madison? ;)
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ilipjz -- I live in PJs -- what I could do if I were a professional blogger.
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ilipjz -- I live in PJs -- what I could do if I were a professional blogger.
Happy Birthday,unmet blog-pal! I hope it continues to be a wonderful one for you.
--janelle renee
(I'm in San Francisco working today. So, I'm also anonymous.)
--janelle renee
(I'm in San Francisco working today. So, I'm also anonymous.)
Hey, according to Tonya, you are only two years away from having an existential crisis!
Happy birthday, pal! I expect a full accounting of your wild and crazy celebrations.
(What would we do without blogs to remind us of the important days in the lives of those we are close to...)
Happy birthday, pal! I expect a full accounting of your wild and crazy celebrations.
(What would we do without blogs to remind us of the important days in the lives of those we are close to...)
There's only one Madison whose team won 1-nil in 3OT this weekend, but there is:
Driving Directions from Madison, NJ to Summit, NJ
Described by Brent Monahan here as a city whose primary revenue is parking tickets given to out-of-towners.
So you should be happy to be from Summit, and even happier to be out of Summit and living in Buckyville. But you know that from the pictures...
Driving Directions from Madison, NJ to Summit, NJ
Described by Brent Monahan here as a city whose primary revenue is parking tickets given to out-of-towners.
So you should be happy to be from Summit, and even happier to be out of Summit and living in Buckyville. But you know that from the pictures...
Happy Birthday Tom!
And don't listen to Nina. No need to worry that a midlife crisis will hit as you approach 40. Besides, you don't want to be having a midlife crisis. Suzanne doesn't not want you to be having a midlife crisis. It really is not as much fun as it looks. ;-)
And don't listen to Nina. No need to worry that a midlife crisis will hit as you approach 40. Besides, you don't want to be having a midlife crisis. Suzanne doesn't not want you to be having a midlife crisis. It really is not as much fun as it looks. ;-)
Happy birthday, belated in my time zone but on time in yours. I have no recollection of the moment captured in that photo, maybe some kind of cognitive-eraser flash was being used.
Thanks, JR, Drek, Genevieve, Nina, Tonya, PS, Jeremy, and OM!
Ken: I got out early (~16 months when we moved to DE). IIRC, my folks actually lived in Westfield.
Jeremy: Sure, blame the flash! I think that dinner was around the time of the feral cat controversy, Milo just happened to wander up from the basement towards the end of dinner, and the 'Jeremy and the feral cat' pictures were going to be extra funny.
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Ken: I got out early (~16 months when we moved to DE). IIRC, my folks actually lived in Westfield.
Jeremy: Sure, blame the flash! I think that dinner was around the time of the feral cat controversy, Milo just happened to wander up from the basement towards the end of dinner, and the 'Jeremy and the feral cat' pictures were going to be extra funny.
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