Birthday

Those of my readers (all four of you) who know me (both of you) already know that sometime within the last week was my 25^th birthday.  Before you start the “Happy Birthday” nonsense, know that I care not a whit for my birthday.  Well, that’s not true; I like cake.  And cheddar.  I love cheddar…  Especially sharp cheddar…  I’ll eat it straight…

Anyway, it’s not just the usual guy thing of “I don’t care about my birthday”.  Rather, I have a personal disliking of it for one simple fact:  a biochemical reaction occurred within my brain on approximately the day I began the twenty first year of my Earthly mortality during which I was suffering from a presumed “loss” (as how it is possible to “lose” something that is technically not in one’s possession [i.e. the life of a family member] is rather beyond my comprehension) causing the association of those certain, negative emotions to coincide with and overlap those normally associated with our western style celebratory drivel known as a “birthday”.

So the day before I turned 20, I was awoken to be informed that my grandfather (with whom my family and I had been living for two years) had died in the night.  By the time I got up, the funeral home workers were already there and had him in the bag.  As the two middle-aged chaps were trying to haul him out, I noticed they were really struggling with it, and so grabbed one of the straps and helped them haul the bundle down two flights of stairs (it’s a split-level house) to the waiting gurney.  It was a fairly distressing day thereafter; even the dog was acting funny, although I was at one point comforted by one of the farm cats (the one that liked me exclusively).  In truth, she probably just wanted attention, and I happened to be there, but I’ll take it.

I went to work that evening looking as upset as I felt, on which my coworkers (we’ll call them Alyssa and Mandy) remarked.  After I told them what had happened, Alyssa expressed her sympathies, while Mandy remained quiet for a moment before finally asking, “How long have you had it?”

There was a loooonnnnggg pause as I attempted to comprehend this truly perplexing non-sequiter.  Finally seeing where there may have been a misunderstanding, I calmly asked, “You know I’m talking about my grandfather, right?”

I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a white Ho-Chunk, but she went as pale as I am with a light tan, her eyes went wide as she understood the situation, and tried to hide her face for a few awkward moments before whispering, “I thought you were talking about a rabbit…”

And thus was born the legend of my rabbit, which remains in the folklore of my workplace to this day, five years later.

Fortunately, I have a decent sense of humour, and was able to find the scene amusing enough to give a small chuckle.  The rest of the evening shift passed with a little more spirit than it may have if I had not laughed at all.  I was even able to joke a bit with customers.

The next day, however, was the day I turned 20, and I had to open the store and then work a 9 hour shift.  And people wonder why I’m so cynical…  Happy frikkin’ birthday…

But now, let’s go back to cake.  This year, my coworkers decided that my birthday was the on the first Saturday of the month.  One of them decided to get me a cheaply made, store bought, white cake with frosting made from concentrated diabetes.  You know the one I mean.  It actually wasn’t bad… once I scraped off the frosting…

Anyway, it has been always the custom in my family that Mom makes a cake of your choosing for your birthday, and every year growing up, I wanted a double layer chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.  This year, however, I threw things off and got a flat, yellow cake with chocolate frosting (hey, I gots tah get mah chocolate fix).  I suppose it’s just a sign that my taste is maturing that the super-sweet stuff doesn’t appeal to me any more.  When my sister called from the east coast Sunday evening (when we did the birthday thing; that’s not the right day…  Or is it…) she was shocked to hear about the yellow cake instead of the chocolate one.

Of course, when I asked for “yellow cake”, I meant highly enriched Uranium ²³⁵, but, you know, whatever…

Meh... close enough...