On short-lived snobbery

To all those wretched souls out there who didn’t receive cars on your birthday: it sucks to be you. Hehhehehehe!

Ahhh, such elitism is liberating once and a while. Kind of like the one and only time I got bumped up to first class. As I was settled into my seat complete with beverage, ice cream and ample legroom, they herded in the rest of the lowlifes from Economy. You know: those same people with whom I usually commiserate.

Lest you are blown away that Jamie bought me a car for my birthday, let me clarify something: we’ve been in the market for a while. We were thrilled when he got his promotion because we could finally afford an extra car payment. My understanding was we’d hold off until after our tax return and company bonus came through. Or so I thought. Sneaky, sneaky honey.

My birthday turned out to be my second-best one ever, my No. 1 being when I celebrated it on my honeymoon in Costa Rica. Kinda tough to top drinking from the well that had been dry for 30 LONG ABSTINENT YEARS, y’know. I think we even made it outside once and a while.

For my latest birthday, we went to a new snazzy restaurant. Our cruisin’ friend Ivan gave us a $50 gift certificate he and his fellow attorneys received for their grand opening. That should have been tip-off #1 that we’d have to mortgage our house to pay for the balance.

Tip #2 was when there weren’t any menus…or prices listed anywhere.

Tip #3 wasn’t until we received our bill and learned they charged us $20 for Haddie’s meal. You know: the food she picked off our plates that consisted of one green bean, three bites of meat and a roll.

I won’t divulge how much we ended up forking over for our fantastic dinner, even after the discount. Just know in the last month we’ve blown our entertainment budget. For the entire year.

And then for the pick-me-up conversation with my mother I had that day:

“Yeah, I’m 35. Can you believe it? Doesn’t that make you feel kinda old, Mom?”

“It should make you feel old, Amber!”

Good to know the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree…

Bode also had a birthday gift for me: he slept through the night and didn’t wake up until 5 a.m. Or so I thought. Until I realized that my poor rheumatism-ridden honey woke up with him.

Jamie: “You mean you didn’t hear him screaming bloody murder?”

What I said:
“I didn’t hear a peep! I’m so sorry you had to endure that!”

What I wanted to say:
“Thank you, NyQuil.”

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