I am 35 today.
I woke up before my children (because my bladder is a bitch) and have done very little today. Ate bagels. Read a book. Took a bath. (I might have done those two things at the same time.) Drank lots of coffee. Went to a bakery for cake. Bought booze. Ran for president. (No, but it’s really the only interesting thing being 35 allows you to do.)
Will gave me the collector’s edition blu-ray of Blade Runner. It has FOUR VERSIONS of the movie over three discs, plus special features and a DVD of I don’t even remember which version. The children gave me a gift certificate for a new brassiere, which might not sound exciting but it is. They went to Jenette Bras with Will and filled out the card themselves. Vasquez complimented Grace’s hair. (I probably ought to stop thinking of her as Vasquez. I will never stop thinking of her as Vasquez. I am considering trying to work up the courage to ask her to sign her character card from the Aliens board game.)
So, this is 35.
Lately I have been so into the books I’ve been reading that I’ve read each of them twice. Finished reading, went straight back to the beginning. With Code Name Verity it was somewhat necessary (the second half of the book explains a lot of what’s going on in the first half); with the others, I just wasn’t ready to be done.
On Tuesday I am going rollerskating for the first time in at least 20 years (probably 25). I am a liiiiiittle nervous.
But first, dinner tonight at Hop Louie, my favorite restaurant in Chinatown, followed by drinks at our place.
If I do not spend all of my money on food and beverages, I might get a tattoo. Poppies on my right arm. (Because someone asked, they don’t represent fucking opium. They are the California state flower and they are my favorite color and they are very pretty.)