This story comes to you in 3 parts (and I suspect it will get better with each one). All are birthday related. They have been edited in a little bit of time where it seemed the computer would not give out. Anyway, 3 parts: Breakfast, Cake and Edible Dinosaur Landscape.
We could today discuss how I am struggling with big questions of life, the universe and everything and am sometimes forced to answer 42 to keep sane, or how while I should delve deeper into the academic theory that is making me ask the questions I may or may not have lost myself a bit in reading Dune. Dune is great! I love Dune. I have just finished God Emperor of Dune and the whole nature-mysticism-futuretelling-sandworm thing (and this picture, which has nothing to do with the book but is always on my mind) is enthralling. I think there might be a lot of inspired use of dramatic irony because of the prescience.
Part 1: Breakfast.
Or we can discuss the birthday-breakfast(/dessert) my sister had in February. I don’t think I ever mentioned on this blog that my sister and I were born a day after the other. Not as in twins, but two years after me, she arrived the day before my birthday. We could argue she was a special present, or that specific curse similar to being born close to christmas meaning you’ll never have as cool a birthday as everyone else. We have two days of birthdays, and for some reason that just means it is half the fun. Luckily I don’t give a toss about birthdays, and she is as far as I can tell not capable of grasping the concept of birthday and is just intensely thrilled and pleasantly surprised that people come to her bed and give her her favourite cheesecake and sing to her. Mind you, she’s also super happy that every Saturday morning my mum brings her toast and tea as she watches videos of babies on the iPad, so it is all relative.
She’s also impossible to buy gifts for. I have decided that next year I’ll buy her two of her favorite bath sponges, two plastics lobsters and a few glossies for a grand total of 20 euros, because I didn’t, after a very long search of HEMA, manage to make her happy this year. I did scare her with those roll-out party-whistle thingies though, so that wasn’t good. It’s like with balloons (which she now loves but used to hate): I sometimes forget what makes her very happy and what terrifies her. The striped wrapping her gifts came in was actually the best present of all. She did not mind being showered in confetti after we blew out the candles per se, but the only family members I managed to enthuse with it were the kittens. But we look quite cute, unwashed and in the middle of blowing out candles at 7.30 a.m., so I wouldn’t want to deprive you of these pictures.