Okay, so I am two days late on this birthday card. I sucky sucky five dollar. But, I can only partially blame myself. Is it my fault that all day Tuesday Otto kept me four feet or more from my laptop and insisted that I not write a string of birthday wishes, but instead, rallied and begged me to build a town made of wood and cardboard boxes?
Then, instead of being able to jot down some Happy’s and a few Birthday’s, the birthday girl and her husband distracted me with their selfishness and dragged us out of the house and away from any and every writing implement. For on that very night, the night of THE birthday celebration, Mrs. And Mrs. Birthday Whores forced The Cohen’s to attend a birthday dinner at a tremendously delicious Hollywood eatery, have a divine pre-dinner cocktail, saunter over to a long and languid table where we ate like rested royalty and drank wine so fine it melted my spine. Did I mention the laughing like lunatics or the trout salad or the make-out photos or the linen tablecloth covered in chocolate ganache?
Did I also mention that Georgia L. is really swell? That she is the real deal made out of steel? That her kids are cupcakes covered in sprinkles and that this hot redhead has no dreaded wrinkles? That her man loves her truly and is never unruly? That her cat is a biter but she’ll be a fighter, if you need a wing woman or just a Bic lighter?
So I got really lucky by meeting this gal. A mom I can hang with who is also a pal. A chick, once an actress, with guest star finesse, who now writes and tells stories about all of her stress. As well as life’s foibles and follies and frights, but let’s not forget she talks of her delights. The love she has brimming for each of her girls, for the man of her dreams with those crazy curls. And those cats, those cats, that parade of fur balls that she rescues and fights for and gives away at the mall.
So Happy Belated to you, Georgia L. It goes without saying that I think you’re swell!
Love,
D
No comments:
Post a Comment