Today is the day after my birthday!

Men are under the impression that flowers are just flowers.

Which, okay, they are; but even the least girly of girls will tell you that flowers mean something more than just a bunch of very pretty plant reproductive tools. Flowers have a weight that goes beyond their negligible response to the pull of gravity. They have a synesthetic effect that causes warm-cozy-cashmere feelings inside of you at the sight of them (if you’re lucky enough to have received flowers) or fragile gauzy wistfulness (if you just sadly watch them being delivered to someone else). Even if said flowers are not actually within sight at any given moment, you still enjoy a certain caramel gooiness when it occurs to you that, yes, you have gotten flowers recently, especially if it was from someone you feel… well, flowery or caramel-y or cashmere-y about.

You can tell that Dean got me flowers for my birthday, can’t you? Yup, a big bouquet of cream-to-blush roses, complete with a vase. (We’ve been married for over nine years, and somehow we’ve never owned a vase before.) I also got a veritable rainstorm of gifts from my friends, all of whom seem to know me very well, and several of whom seem to want to make me fat(ter).

I wish I had a scanner so I could show you the kickass portrait El made of me. (Sage claims it is not in fact me, but her. Hmm.) I wish I could upload the CD Andrew made for me without it taking forever to download. (So sweet! It’s like getting a mix tape, way back when…) But I don’t wish I could share the copy of Tim Powers’s The Drawing of the Dark that Vin picked out, or the butterfly bracelet K8 and Alex gave me, or the trade paperback of Tom Strong Marco got me, or the chocolates from Jason and Camy. ‘Cause they’re mine and I’m lovin’ em, nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah!

Ahem. If you get a chance to pick up a copy of Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis (which Dean also got me), however, I strongly urge you to do so. I read it while getting myself a birthday haircut yesterday, and it was so good the salon could have given me a mohawk and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Speaking of my salon, they gave me free purple lowlights in my hair yesterday, which they all rhapsodized about, but it looks exactly the same to me, so good thing I didn’t have to pay for it.

Okay. Now I’m going to go stare some more at the gorgeous gold-and-crystal bracelet Dean gave me; but first, thanks to everyone who remembered me on my supposedly low-key 32nd. You guys so rock!