My Birthday

I feel I should begin with a poem by my dear sister Heather. Ahem.

Sailors, what the heck do they wear,

Sailors, what the heck do they care.

My Birthday.
Well, nothing says exciting like turning 21. Which, I’ve decided, is how old I was turning. My surprise party absolutely caught me by surprise.

Of course, then nothing could yell surprise, so I had to help.

But then we cranked up the dance tunes and things got going. It is entirely possible someone living alone should not own a camera.

A special shout-out to Mom and Dad (read here "Mom"), who included a piece of cake in her package (along with the ziplock baggies, which I've been told do not hold juice, just FYI; some pens; some rubberbands... possibly a toothbrush...)

Bad bad bunny.

So, Moran and I ran into Professor Tiberious in the hallway. Which meant he wasn’t in his office. As this is where the candy lives, we made a mad dash for it. Moran wrote him a nice note. “Dear Prof T. – thank you for giving Beatrice a candybar for her birthday. Thanks, Miss Moran.” Then, she opened his stash of candybars and handed me one. I have to say, I appreciate the many and varied roles Miss Moran feels comfortable playing.

This was perfect until, just I had taken the candybar and looked the most guilty, Tiberious walked back into his office. There’s no going back from that. Doesn’t matter how many times you tell him it was all Miss Moran. Oh no. He’s pretty sure I was stealing a candybar. But since it was my birthday and all, he decided to be extra generous and give me a WHOLE candybar. At which point I had to say, “Um, yeah, you already did.” Now I’m ungrateful, presumptuous, and a thief to boot.

(this is a shot of me, showing my great respect for Professor Tiberious at graduation)