Birthday blog for Bangladesh

I'm officially 66!

Like the famous route. 

 I am just as old. 

 Just as dusty. 

Just as infrequently used.

I'm just one "6" away from being the anti-christ.

Yet I bask in the afterglow of all the generic and especially the  specific birthday greetings, blanketing me like a warm, fuzzy throw rug.  Blanketing me like the Nor'Easter is going to blanket most of the towns that surround ours tomorrow.

I am now pre-occupied with blankets, be it one that gives comfort and confidence to Linus Van Pelt, or the Blanket  with the terrible moniker, who was so famously dangled over a balcony in that hotel in Italy by his famous father, Michael Jackson.

I had the perfect "me" day yesterday, still feeling like only  sixty-five, still looking like eighty-five,  and eagerly awaiting to participate in the great day my loving husband had mapped out for us.

The day started by watching the penultimate episode of "And Just Like That"..and I couldn't help but wonder, weren't things supposed to get Hot in Cleveland?

Did I miss something?  Wasn't Miranda flying out to "the mistake on the lake"..the hometown of my better half?

Did I blink and miss Cleveland?

I apologize if that's a spoiler alert, which I don't think it is, because I know what a REAL spoiler alert is.

A real spoiler alert is when your college BFF phones you the night before your birthday, just as you and your husband are sitting down to watch the "Jeopardy!" episode on the DVR, making sure cell phones are out of reach so nobody sees anything on social media  they're not supposed to see.

I hear  it in his voice as soon as I pick up:

"I am so disappointed in Amy."

I was so hoping he meant perennial Oscar bridesmaid, Amy Adams.

Or maybe he was expressing disappointment belatedly in that Long Island Lolita, the bratty Amy Fisher, who permanently disfigured Joey Buttafuoco's wife??

Or..if he DID mean reigning champ Amy Schneider, could it be because she showed up without her trademark  pearls, but with a MAGA hat?

He blurts out, "Even I knew the answer was "Bangladesh!" which meant I might as well have shut off the TV without seeing it through to the bitter and totally unpredictable ending.

Curiously, he called the next day, the day of my actual birthday, to quiz me on all I knew about Bangladesh.

All I know about Bangladesh is that it ends in the letter "H"--which is apparently more than Amy Schneider knew

I open the contents of the birthday bag left on my doorstep, from Tami.  It's a bag of white chocolate truffles(she knows they're my favorite) and a "Jeopardy!" quiz book, but my luck, all the questions will be about Bangladesh.

I then tackle all the Facebook messages, and I see a beautiful, heartfelt one from Jim, but he chose a photo of me that was really unflattering, where I looked like the love child of Margaret Cho and Buddy Hackett, where I sat before a lit sparkler that looked as 'though it might singe off my bushy brows at any given moment.

I usually don't care about flattering or unflattering photos, because in real life,  I let people see me in my thick glasses, wearing a bathing suit that accentuates my thick body, fighting a thick cowlick that makes my bangs look like they're covered in  thick pipe cleaners.

I usually don't mind bearing warts and all, but on my birthday??

Not so much.

Jim says this:

"Technically, I CAN swap the photo for a nicer one, but too many people have already clicked the "like" button, and I don't want to offend them by deleting their comments."

I counter:  "The likes came from an old co-worker, a person we once met on vacation, a relative of one of Evan's classmates that he never sees..I think my unease trumps theirs."

He says:  "OK..I'll piss off some people and take that photo down, but how come you're not mad at Larry?  (College BFF's Jim's  husband) Larry posted a very unflattering picture of you dangling your legs in a pool."

First of all, I did not recall seeing such a photo that morning while checking Facebook, and I don't recall ever posing for a photo op like that, and when my husbands shows me said photo on his phone, he admits:  "oh..yeah..these legs are very beefy and hairy and big.  I guess they're not yours."

I have an amazing sense of humor, as does Jim, so we're laughing about this later during my birthday dinner with Evan, who quips:  "I think by drawing attention to the fact that Dad put up what you called an ugly photo made things worse."

Jim brings up the original pic, and Evan shrugs, saying, "I wouldn't call that ugly, but it looks like you have something stuck in your teeth."

And I SWEAR, this happens next:

Jim says, "it DOES look like that, and he looks at my mouth, with shock, and asks, "when did you chip your tooth like that?"

I calmly answer:

"Are you effin' kidding me??  You DROVE me to the dentist!  Eight years ago!!  Remember??  Dr. Alkon said the caps weren't going to last??  Don't you remember that I blogged about it, EIGHT years ago, saying it probably happened trying to get a bitter pistachio nut out of its shell?  That's why they lock up those bitter ones in the first place..you're not SUPPOSED to eat them?  It was either that, or the liars who advertise "no boiling necessary" lasagna, but either way, you've been staring at this chipped tooth for almost a decade!"

He didn't remember ever seeing this before, but that's what marriage is.

Needless needling.

Forgiving forgetfulness.

Oh, and I'm not exactly a saint either, in case you were wondering.

He takes the whole day off, takes me to a hearty breakfast at Perkins, and then drives forty minutes to a theater we had never even heard of before, for the redo of "Parallel Mothers" which we couldn't see locally last weekend because the projector broke.

Ours  were the only tickets sold; we'd be Covid safe.  We could kick off our shoes and lounge in comfy recliners.  We could experience  as many bodily functions as we wanted; we could talk and ask questions and make verbal bets of Penelope Cruz's Oscar odds.  (which are high..the film and her performance were wonderful)

But as we're driving, I begin to express discomfort with going to a theater in Buttf*ck(aka "Manville") NJ, and by the time we arrived, I totally convinced myself we'd be victims of a crime, most likely a robbery.

Jim placates me:  "Yes.  I can just see it now.  A thug is scanning all the weapons in his arsenal, trying to decide what would be most threatening as he  attempts to rob two zhlubs who are going to see a FOREIGN  LANGUAGE FILM at  a MATINEE on a THURSDAY!"

He makes me laugh, of course, at my own absurdity, until the movie had about five minutes to go , and I nudge him and say, "I think my premonition has come true.  There is a masked man near the door."

Jim replies:  "He's wearing a Covid mask and he's carrying a bucket and a mop and a vacuum cleaner.  I'm guessing the only thing he'll steal is an SOS "steel wool" pad, if we happen to have one on us, and knowing you and that eighty pound pocketbook of yours, anything is possible."

Damn..I am high maintenance.  

God bless Jim and everyone else who knows me, and knows that about me.

The terrific restaurant in Asbury Park decorated our table with sequins that I thought were candy.  They offered dessert but Jim told them we had a Carvel cake in our home fridge.

They bought us two complimentary cannolis anyway.

We left the cannolis and took the gun.

(right..like I'm gonna write a long blog without a famous movie quote.  Gimme a break)

The figurative gun(s) as we armed ourselves for a continued battle of the wits the lasted the entire car ride home.

Thanks to everyone who celebrated my birthday and came to this after party.

If I win the lottery, I'm taking all my loyal readers on an all expenses paid vacation.... to Bangladesh.