To my Mister, who is celebrating his day of birth today by screwing up cement board in our new shower.
I know you’d rather be doing something else, but without you, I’d start to smell after three days. Like ripe cheese. And while I know you love that old, moldy blue…I have personal hygiene issues.
Happy Birthday, babe! I love you…always.
i carry your heart
by e.e. cummings
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
—
And because we met on a Friday, and his birthday is on a Friday…he’s gets me. Absolutely.
Lucky guy, your Mister. Happy Birthday to him.
And he’s getting cake. Chocolate with caramel icing. And I’m only going to make him work for six hours today…not the usual eight.
MMMMMmmmmmmmm caramel…
What were we talking about?
Last weekend there was a Jennifer Aniston movie on tv while I was painting. Her character owned a flower shop and she collected copies of some of her favorite notes from the flower orders. I imagined her digging your paragraph #2 up there if it were on a card.
We haven’t been formally introduced, so I hope it’s ok to address him by his first name. . . Happy birthday, Mister.
I remember that movie! And I agree. As someone who works with flowers, she’s totally dig it.
Mister says thank you. Isn’t he polite? And he didn’t even blink when I told him your name. He just started curling his toes into the carpet.
What an odd coincidence. Someone else I know recently used that very same expression! I’m pretty sure he’s not your Mister.
I’ve never met the man and I don’t know that much about him, but he’s one of my favorite people in the whole world! So I will set aside my disdain for celebrations that recognize the number of orbits around the Sun to honor The Mister. May he continue to enjoy many more orbits around this solar system’s star.
On his behalf I’ll say…he’s honored and impressed. He knows nothing about you, either. Let’s keep it that way.
Nothing says “birthday” like cement board!
The cummings is a nice touch.
I had a line in there about screwing something else but I decided that was too much information.
Favorite e.e. cummings poem. Ever. And it even inspired one of my own. Yo’re lucky if your Mister understands that poem and can talk about words with you. I hope you do something fabulous together. IYKWIM.
Just call me lucky. In every way. IYKWIM.
He’s a lucky man indeed. Screwing up cement board is something to savor. Will there be cake later?
Before AND after.
I know I said something on another post about coming over with vodka. Check that, I’m bringing skim milk.
S. Kimberly Milk is on my list of witness protection names, even though I am not a woman.
Happy birthday to the MR.!
I understand. Sometimes I go by the name Cara (Mel) Cake although I’m not a guy.
We’d make a great pair of exotic dancers with such names.
Only 6 hours? Happy Birthday indeed! And chocolate cake, you know what they say about chocolate don’t you?
It gives you a happy?