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My little heart thumps with joy. I just love you so much.
First, the singers:
Mom, your rendition was tasteful and quite lovely, but
Katie, I would have preferred something louder and with more
off-pitch screeching. Jen, you—after some palpable initial
reluctance—pulled off a beautiful answering-machine solo.
Sarzee, I purposely let the voicemail pick up so that I could
listen over and over to you singing (in a fake eastern-European
accent, to boot) in the train station. And
Rebecca, your slow,
soulful, and brilliantly on-key version quite nearly stole the
show, but I expect nothing less: it sounded as though you were
stretched over a piano somewhere, your ubiquitous rhinestones
shimmering under a pencil spot.
And those who didn’t sing:
Jess takes high honors for sending the first birthday
wishes of the day. David, I love you madly for breaking the
family tradition of forgetting birthdays. Doron, hearing your
voice was the best of surprises! And Carey, another terrific
surprise! Keaton bravely left her first Orangette comment just
to chime in and then called later, breathless and giddy. And
Guillaume, tes très belles photos de l’Islande weren’t solely
for me or expressly for my birthday, but they make an exquisite
and very timely gift.
The cake is long gone, but there’s plenty of chocolate to be
found in the cupboard and elsewhere. The only drawback to
celebrating your birthday over two weekends is that by the time
the actual (Tues)day rolls around, you find yourself at home and
alone, save for a VHS of
Annie Hall.
The rains have begun. It’s alright.
Goodnight, dear sweet well-wishers near and far. Thank you.