Birfday

Yup. The big day is looming. I'm really old now. I'll probably start looking all stooped over pretty soon, and any day now I'll develop that old lady smell that's like wet dog and old dirt mingled with mothballs and Chanel number 5. Who knows, maybe I already have that odor. Additionally, I'll start tucking balled up kleenex into the sleeve of my cardigan or somewhere in my bosom.

I've started arguing with one of my friends, also old, about which of us is more forgetful. We go back and forth for a few rounds then we forget what the hell we're talking about.

I should probably start being nice to my kids so that they'll put me in a decent nursing home. I guess to that end I ought to stop telling them that if they're bad I'll send them back to their real mommies.
Miss H. has this all figured out; she retrieves pictures of me taken while I was very pregnant, and pictures of us all leaving the hospital together, and pictures of me putting her as a newborn into various kitchen vessels (stew pot, roasting pan) to see where she'd fit. Using these as evidence, she states that I am, indeed, her real Mommy. I believe that I only actually played this game with The Boy once and he just started crying, so now we just see who can burp louder (me).

I guess if they run short on nursing home funds for me, they can sell Archie Bunker on the black market for his organs. I think kidneys fetch a nice sum, and along with the liver they'll probably raise enough for me to have a private room and a Filipino sitter .