Well, I didn't think it would happen, I thought I would come home and find C under a blanket on the couch, a glass of wine in one hand and the remote in the other, saying I know I promised but I was so exhausted by the end of the day and all I wanted to do was come home and relax, and I can't get up right now because Ernie (our fat cat) just got settled on my lap, I could see it all in my head even as I trudged my way home, but sometimes luck is on your side, and luckily for me my birthday fell on C's day off, and I, in some kind of miracle, got my requested birthday cake. Of course I still had to cook my own supper, and rent my own movie, but one can't ask for the world.
People are always telling me that my work is too dark. So I've put up this sunnier story, but even it has a shadow, as its original publisher – a fine Atlantic Canadian literary magazine called the Gaspereau Review – is no longer in business. ---------------- It was a simple enough thing and that thing was simply this: Edmund Kelley was a gentleman. Of course his mom called him her 'little gentleman', as in 'Oh Edmund, you are my perfect little gentleman,' which did seem to hold to a certain logic that these type of things often follow, considering her affection for him and the fact that he was, after all, only ten years old. Still, Edmund himself was not particularly fond of the diminutive aspect of that title. Gentleman was enough; gentleman summed up the whole thing rather nicely, thank you. He was definitely a more refined version of your average child. He lived in a state of perpetual Sunday m
What a lovely cat. You can't mess with the physics of a cat in your lap though, birthdays included. :)
ReplyDeletehope you still had a good one!
what a pretty pretty cake!
ReplyDeletebut, dude, you got a cake!!!
ReplyDeleteHappy Birthday Miracle! Cake Miracle! I am so mean, I can't stand Christmas Miracles anymore. Old and mean I am-and I have a big cane I like to shake at little children-I can't help it.
ReplyDelete