My birthday is next week. This year will be a melancholy kinda birthday. I lie about my age. I tell people I'm 25, but I also tell people I'm lying. I figure it's alright to lie if people know you're lying. I won't be 30 next week, but I'll be dangerously close. I could have an obsessive age-related breakdown, but I'm saving that for when I actually do turn thirty. Atleast this year my birthday is on a national holiday. That happens every few years and when I was little I always liked the thought that the entire country got the day off work on MY birthday. Now I like it when my birthday falls on a holiday because The Greatest gets the day off on my birthday. My Mother went shoe shopping yesterday and she brought me home an early birthday present (no it's not shoes)
Isn't it cute. I used to hate figurines and knick-knacks. I think it has something to do with the summers I worked at Merry Maids, and how much I hated dusting old people's shelves full of a lifetime of random crap. But now I really like accumulating my own lifetime of crap. Especially this figurine. She's knitting a sweater for her snowman, and the other snowman is holding her yarn. Does it get any cuter than that? Thanks Mom!