Without this date, I wouldn’t be here. It’s the mother’s birthday.
The mother is a pre-Boomer, born right in the middle of the war. Fate’s a strange thing. I guess it’s a good thing that the military deemed Young Tom “too old” to enlist at age 41 or he might have been overseas … and the mother would never have been. And by default, neither would I
Trying to buy things for the mother is d*mn near impossible. I’ve got a relatively good record, last Christmas not withstanding. (I bought her some jewelry she didn’t like. Oh well. I’m taking possession of it as she didn’t bother to tell me this until way past a time when I could have returned it.)
This year, I opted to not even try. She and I talked about it and about Christmas and decided that what is going into the house is enough for both of us. We usually get things we want (within reason) year round, so it’s not that big a deal.
But the one thing we always do for a birthday, pretty much without fail, is go out to eat. The mother has decided that she wants TGI Friday’s so that is what she shall have. I guess I’ll have to force myself to eat fajitas. Ouch!
We’re also going shopping so I’m sure I’ll end up buying her something. And that will be cool. No chance of getting something she doesn’t want.
It’s going to be an extra treat, too, as it’s supposed to be 74 degrees. That’s right. 7-4. In November. I love it.