The World Really Wants It To Be My Birthday Today

Mr. Moon called me at eight-thirty this morning to wish me a happy birthday.
"It's not my birthday," I said. Then I went to the calender to make sure. Nope. It's tomorrow.

Then I got an e-mail from my dear friend K. wishing me a happy birthday.
"Not yet," I wrote him back.

And then MAY called me to wish me a happy birthday. I went to the calender again. I checked the date on my computer. Still not my birthday.
This is odd.

Listen- when you're my age, it's quite easily possible to think that you yourself have gotten the days wrong. But I really think that no, today is not my birthday.
Tomorrow.
But I'll take all good wishes and why not?

So it's not my birthday but tomorrow is. And I believe that Mr. Moon and I are going to take off on a little trip up north. Now, what that means, I do not know. We are vaguely talking about "the mountains," fantasizing that somewhere within driving distance there is a spot cooler than here. We have no agenda, no map, no plan.
Just...north.
Hoping for...cooler.

Life is busy here right now. Very, very busy and honestly, I think I just want a few days of sweetheart time, as Lis calls it. Time for the world to go away and leave nothing but me and my man. Even when it's just the two of us here there are always so many things to do and so many places to be we lose track of each other. We are loving, we are appreciative, but dammit, we need that time together.
I hope to read The Yearling to him as he drives. I hope we can listen to the new CD I ordered after hearing an interview with the musician on NPR. It's a good one. Pimps and Preachers by Paul Thorn. His lines enchant me. Plus, the art in the lyric booklet includes a bunch of chickens and a rooster who could be Elvis's twin brother. So you know I love him. Yeah. I want to listen to that as we drive.
And I want to stay in a motel and crank the AC down to zero and I want to eat breakfast at the Waffle House. Instead of smoothies with almonds and fruit and fat-free yogurt, I want eggs and bacon and fried potatoes.
And I want to hold that man's hand all day long if I feel like it. And stop along the way for coffee and maybe I'll wear a hat. Who knows? Who knows what Mary will want? I don't. She might wear a lot of jewelry. She might paint her eyelids in sparkly mermaid colors just for the day's driving.
I know she'll want to lay down beside that man at night in the cool refrigerated air of a room somewhere not at home next to the man who makes everyplace she's with him home.

So that's what we're going to do. Tomorrow. On my birthday.

And then, eventually, we'll turn around, head back south and come home where our chickens live and our grandson comes to visit and where my friends and family gather on the porches and in the kitchen and we'll be better off for having gone away.

That's the plan-with-no-plan but there's a lot to do before we leave and so here I go, off to do it. Off to do it although part of me is already on the road, heading north, looking for a cooler place to be, holding that man's hand.