First things first - choir.
Halleluiah. Halleluiah. Halleluiah.
No. It's Carrie's birthday. Try again.
Happy Birthday to Carrie.
Happy Birthday to you.
Happy Birthday dear Carrieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
Happy Birthday to you.
Birthday are interesting things. We all have one - except my grandfather who had two. Explanation for that is near the end of the blog. As I was saying - everybody has a birthday. When you are little - birthdays are cool. People give you gifts just because you were born. And there is cake. If you're lucky you get to eat some for breakfast the next day.
Then come the teen years and the birthdays just won't pass by fast enough because you'll just die if you don't turn 16 and get a beginner's license.Or the all important 19 in Ontario (18 in Quebec) when you become legal to drink. Sorry American teens.
Then you hit your twenties - you're an adult - got the world by the horns.
30's - too busy to talk - kids - job - need 35 pink cupcakes for little Sally to take to school tomorrow - did I leave Billy at soccer? -- again.
40's - Wait ! When did that happen?
dare I say it - the 50's, 60's 70's.......
And somewhere in the 80's birthdays become cool again. Ask senior citizen how how he/she is and you'll be proudly told - 85 last summer, dearie.
I remember one feisty senior I met. He asked me three times to guess his age. Being polite I said - 82. I figured I was close. "Hell no," he replied and started laughing. I started panicking - didn't want to be responsible for him having a heart attack. He finally spit out his answer - 98.
Imagine what he's seen in 98 years.
So for a final thought - enjoy your birthday. It's a special day. And may you have many many of them. (think of all that cake.)
My Grandfather - how he got 2 birthdays. My grandpa was a Home Child. England used to send their orphans to the colonies and one of those children was my mother's father. He and 2 of his brothers were sent to Canada, 1 brother was sent to Australia and the twin girls were left in the safety of England. My grandpa was so young when he arrived he couldn't tell the authorities how old he was or when his birthday was. So they gave him an age and a date. When he retired he needed his birth certificate - turns out he was a year older than he thought and born in a different month. He demanded cake for each birthday - and he got it.
He was also a rum runner during Prohibition - but I'll leave that story for another blog.
Two win an ecopy of my twisted fairytale - Sexy Red Hood, post a comment telling me your favourite or most memorable or least favourite birthday. Mine was #20. I remember watching the clock tick to midnight and thinking - oh my god I'm not a teenager anymore! A bit of a shock.
For a excerpt of my books - click the cover pages below. And if you don't mind - feed my fish - they're always hungry.
To win one of the grand prizes, visit as many blogs as you can and leave a comment AND your email address. Best of luck.