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Thursday, Apr. 04, 2002 / 7:09 p.m. ~Lavendar and White Are the Colors of the Day~ The co-workers went all out, or mostly all out, more than usual all out, for me and my little birthday. The cube had (still has, actually) lavendar and white streamers, a couple white balloons, cool multi colored confetti (little party hats, the word "Party", and wine glasses), and early in the day they gave me a vase with a dozen HUGE white long stemmed roses. I swear they doubled in size throughout the day. People were coming by and stopping, staring, gawking, gasping, that kind of thing. Interspersed with the roses were those purple flowers, and I don't know the name, but they're common in flower arrangements, have really wide stems near the flowers, the flowers sort of branch out in a cluster.... Anyway, it was a lavendar/purple and white theme. Purple and lavendar plates for the vegetable platter, lavendar napkins with butterflies on them, larger deep purple napkins. After lunch we had cake, a beautiful white frosted carrot cake, white butter cream frosting with "Happy Birthday ________", written in lavendar, blue and lavendar flowers. And my name was spelled correctly and everything. Nice. A smaller carrot cake bar too, the kind with the carrot down the center, the carrot in orange frosting with the green at the top. And D., the Supervisor, had bought me a book of "cat meditations", What My Cat Has Taught Me About Life, inscribed it in the dedication page, and got everyone to sign it, all but Laverne, and Penelope got her to sign it when I pointed out she hadn't. It was an oversight, not a slight. I knew it was mostly D.'s doing, the book, the little bag of bath things, the lavendar bath oil beads, bath "confetti", bath salts, the book, the colors, and maybe Kukla blew up balloons, helped fold the streamers the way they do, so they come out all twisty and curvy. And Veronica must've gotten the flowers, because that's her thing. Her eyes lit up every time I thanked her, she was so happy I liked them. But they all take the credit, no one is singled out unless I guess. And I can tell by looking in their eyes. My best guess is Listerine didn't have a whole lot to do with anything, and she was on the phone when they sang to me, so I told her she could sing on her own....and she did! So, it was nice, and I felt like it was a holiday all day. I goofed off, I ate a huge piece of cake with flowers on it, the icing all oozing down the side, got a major sugar high and couldn't sit still. And I hugged every single woman in the department and thanked them, even if they didn't contribute. Oh, they sang too, and wanted me to do my walk, the "walk" everyone does down the center aisle, the "It's My Birthday" dance, but I refused. For the first time I wasn't going to go that far. I've had major animosity towards these folks, and I would do the same for them, the flowers, the gift, the confetti and balloons and streamers, but it only goes so far, I've done it all too, but only so much. And if they want to dance, fine, but at that moment, everyone looking at me, me wearing my goofy pants and thrift store short sleeve shirt, my stack shoes I'm hating, it wasn't right. No music, too self conscious, it wasn't happening. I flatly refused, and felt so odd, but said, "Look, I'm 41 now, and I refuse to buckle to peer pressure." Perhaps I should've said, buckle "under" peer pressure, but they got my point. I didn't mean to be bitchy, just let them know that yeah, I love to dance, I'll dance again, but I don't perform like that. The pressure was too much. So they sang, I applauded their efforts, we ate cake, it was good. And I brought the flowers home, showed them to Gladys, as today is her actual birthday, mine on Saturday, and she wanted to eat the green leaves of the background plants. She is now moaning because I had to put the flowers out on the porch. She wants them, bad. BAD. MRAOWWWWWW. MMMMMRRRRRAAAOOOOOOWWWWWW. Sorry, little girl. I gave her some cat treats, Norm too, and later we'll pop a can of Friskies, but now, well, she's got to stop that. Oh, my ex-Supervisor, Helen, gave me some beautiful 14K gold dolphin earrings. Beautiful. Very much a surprise. Wow. It always surprises me when people remember me, my birthday, give me things. I mean I know I reminded Lulu and the gang, but I hardly ever talk to Helen anymore, yet she remembers my birthday, gave me sterling silver cat earrings last year..... She can keep me stocked in earrings. All in all a good day. Very good. Except for me letting them down with the dance portion. I know Kukla loves to just start dancing for no reason, and Veronica does that 'down low' kind of dance thing, very sensual and sexual, and Penelope won't dance unless everyone else is, and Lulu hauls off and jumps in when she's in the mood, even I did a little twist, and semi-Aerobics kind of jumping around thing late in the day, when only Lulu was watching, but jeez, when they're all just standing there staring, saying, "Come on, you did it last year, come on, oh just do it!", well, no. I will not. Yeah, I'm still 6 years old. It's still MY birthday and I'll do what I want to do. Maybe I've lived 41 years, but in so many ways, you'd have no idea. You'd never guess. If you couldn't see the occasional gray hair amidst the dark brown, if you didn't hear the stories, if you didn't catch the references, you'd think I was a child. Totally off track, but no one said anything about the "barbecued iguana" musical reference. I said 10 points, and no one said a thing. Well, ever hear of Oingo Boingo? Stan Ridgeway? Danny Elfman? Wasn't Danny Elfman a member of Oingo Boingo before he started composing for film and television? Didn't he do "Pee Wee's Playhouse"? "Edward Scissorhands"? "The Nightmare Before Christmas"? "The Simpsons"??? Hello??? Stan Ridgeway, you know, "I'm on a Mexican Radiooooo, I'm on a Mexican, whoa ohhh, radiooooo" "I wish I was in Tijuana, eating barbecued iguana". Oh well. I guess I am old. We're talking 1980? Hang on right there, I'm gonna go do a Google search!...... .........Okay, fine, I didn't find much, just this Biography at Rolling Stone online. I have a Stan Ridgeway album too, his first solo album. It has some really funky songs on it, and it's kind of hard to digest in one sitting. Writing about this is making me want to play it though - vinyl, don'tcha know. Wait, it's Wall of Voodoo, right? NOT Oingo Boingo? I'm very confused!!!!!! This is making me a little crazy since I was so adamant that it was Oingo Boingo. Stan Ridgeway definitely sings the song, but he was with Wall of Voodoo, it turns out, and I think he was not in Oingo Boingo at all, but I'm still looking into it. Danny Elfman, however, was definitely in Oingo Boingo. Grrrrr...... (This is the last time I'm going to edit this entry for content, I swear. I have no idea why I associated Stan Ridgeway and "Mexican Radio" with Oingo Boingo. They are apparently totally unrelated. I can only use drug and marijuana use as an excuse. In the early '80s I was often under the influence. It has left gaps in my memory. Seriously.) I also need to add right here and right now that it was really freaky the way that man in Oaxaca, on "A Cook's Tour" the other night held that iguana upside down and said, "He wants to die, look at how relaxed he is". Stupid fuck, you're holding him captive, by the head and tail, upside down, he's gone limp in defense. Jesus! I doubt any iguana, Mexican or otherwise, wants to become someone's tough and stringy taco filling. Well, that's about it for now, I think. I'm sure that ultimately there's a whole lot more, like thoughts swimming around in my head, ideas, things to do this four day weekend, the Big Game drawing, which of course I still think we could win, of course, and just how nice people were today, not that they're that nice to me the rest of the time, nor am I to them, but when it's your birthday, well, they come around. "Survivor" and "CSI" and "ER", the Thursday lineup, starts shortly, so it's me and the girls and the TV, and some snackage and this night will be taken care of. I have such an exciting life. Tomorrow there is so much I want to do, but it all starts with sleeping in, so we'll see. Which reminds me of the dream from which I was positively YANKED when my alarm went off this morning.... wow, it was intense to be there, to BE there in that dream, then have to wake up. But that's a whole 'nother story. Cost of the War in Iraq
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