Today I turned thirty-nine, so instead of the mundane "Happy Birthday," my mom said, "You and Jack Benny." Now I've always been a Jack Benny fan. You young ones won't have heard of him. Heck, I shouldn't have, but I watched a LOT of old TV shows as a kid. Warner Brothers did a cartoon adaptation with mice. I didn't recall that he always claimed to be thirty-nine. Of course as a kid, thirty-nine may as well have been a hundred and thirty-nine. So, now this birthday has a sort of cool significance.
Some highlights of this birthday include: nifty motorcycle boots from my sister-in-law (guess word got out about my duct-taped rain boots), the ice cream shop and the comic book shop with my kids (I got "Hellboy: Strange Places." Did I mention my fantasy of Mike Mignola illustrating my novel?), my mom's pineapple upside-down cake (to die for), and tonight dear husband's taking me to Indian food. Yipee!