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It’s my Birthday.

I’m 44 today. Sometimes I fall off of the earth for a while but always make it back. I think it’s good to do that once in a while. I’m genuine and kind. I’m realistic and can’t handle drama. It makes me nervous.

I have expensive purses but wear a backpack from Target instead. I have good kids, well they aren’t felons, and I wear $6 sunglasses. I’m a very loyal friend and I have a work ethic we don’t see much anymore. I married my high school sweetheart and I still love him to pieces even though we are complete opposites and I want to kill him when he snores. I go to church. I go to bed really early. I do laundry every day and never sort it first. Occasionally I drop F-bombs but mostly I say things that sound like real curse words, but aren’t.

I have wrinkles and cellulite. I don’t know how to use filters but somehow my phone does and I’m grateful. I like to write but found people don’t like to read anymore so occasionally I make a funny meme and post it. I’d love to make some kind of living through my writing someday. I always wanted to be an anesthesiologist or a writer and stand-up comedian but decided to clean teeth instead. I believe in working hard for what I have or I don’t want it. I love my job and I’m really good at it.

On the day I die I’ll complain that I need to lose 10 pounds. I love animals and when I talk to them, I speak in a language that even I don’t understand. I don’t have a lot of friends (on purpose) but I cherish the few I have. I have no sense of direction and a really clean microwave.

One of my longtime friends told me that social media is just the highlight reel of people’s lives and she was right. Once you realize that life is easier.

Ice Cream Man!

The 80’s.  The time when a stranger came to your house and offered you ice cream and candy and your parents were cool with it.  Our ice cream man’s name was Danny.  He wore a pinky ring and a short-sleeved button up shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve that he left open to his mid chest.  He had a tattoo of a naked lady on his right arm and wore his dark hair slicked back like Craterface from Grease. We thought he was so cool although looking back, he was probably straight out of prison. 

We would stop what we were doing when we heard the high-pitched jingle of the ice cream truck’s arrival. We’d yell, “ICE CREAM MAN!” and race to find money and catch him even though he drove only about 5 mph. If we missed him as he drove by, we’d wait for when he came back down the road on the other side.  I wasn’t allowed to cross the street so my brother would carry me piggy-backed to the other side so I wouldn’t miss out. We’d impatiently wait in line hopping from one foot to the other trying to avoid burning our bare feet on the hot asphalt as we waited our turn.  I usually got something that had a rock-solid frozen piece of gum in it or a push-up.  It didn’t matter which one I got since it was so hot any ice cream melted all over my dirty hands before I had a chance to finish it. I loved it anyway.

Those were some of my best summer memories although, as a parent, I can’t help wondering what in the world my parents were thinking?