I Am Not A Trapper Keeper

My birthday is coming up, and I have barely given it a moment’s thought, you guys. There was a time when I made a big hairy deal about my birthday. Party! Cake! Fancy outfit! Friends! Family! A present for myself! Field trips! Ah, me! I love you! I am a big believer in self love (dirty!).

You know what? I am trading all of that in. Well, most of it in. Technically, when I look at those things on that list I just made, I will still gladly partake of all of those things. I love cake! Who doesn’t want cake? Nutpants people, that’s who.

But here is the part of my birthday that I have given up. I no longer have any interest, whatsoever, in planning shit for my own birthday. I corral, organize, plan, administer all the livelong day at my job. And the thought of corralling, organizing, planning, or administering anything FOR FUN has just drained right out of me. I just don’t want to do it. So if anyone wants to bring me ice cream on a platter, or give me presents, or what have you, I am totally down with that. But I ain’t spending this here birthday organizing NOTHING, you dig?

I just wanted to be emphatic about that for a moment. Ok, I’m done now.

Ima now do a weekend wrap up, because the weekend was a glorious thing. First of all, I got home from work on Friday night to find a package from my parents containing cookies from my mom, and birthday money. Cookies and money! I do believe I have discovered the secret to birthday happiness.

On Saturday, who should show up at my front door but blogfriend @AnnieRauh! (Ok, well I invited her but I wanted to make it sound like more awesomeness kept showing up at my door unexpectedly, like the cookies and money). We walked to a neighborhood cafe for brunch where I only managed to talk about work for like 10 minutes (good job, me) and we also got maybe a small lecture from our waitress about the integrity of Annie’s sandwich. I have since decided that “integrity of the sandwich” just might be a great band name. We then hiked over to a park (sorry, Midwestern Annie, for all the pesky hills) before she had to be on her way. I love blogfriends.

That night Nordic Boy and I went to see a dance show. One of the pieces we saw was Glass Pieces, which I have wanted to see live, full out ever since I was about 13 years old. And man oh man was it worth the wait. Jerome Robbins and Phillip Glass and super costumes and staging and sweet ass dancing. I was kind of high after I saw it. And can I just tell you how much I love that Nordic Boy dude, because he enjoys this stuff, and really gets it, and has come to so many shows with me over the years that he has developed a good eye and vocabulary about it all? I love all of my friends and family but I have got to say that the dance part of my brain can get awful lonely at times. It sort of hurts on a level that I can’t quite explain. So there was a moment during the show where a particularly breathtaking piece of choreography happened, and Nordic Boy squeezed my hand, and it made me want to cry, in a good way. He not only was there, but he was enjoying it, and paying attention, and knew enough to see what I was seeing, and share that with me. Swoony.

On Sunday morning I met up with some lovely librarian ladies for brunch where ok, yes, we talked about work, but we talked about other things too. Hopscotch brought along her little baby cutie pie so we got some time in staring at him, which honestly I could do all day long. The cuteness on that kid would stop a train, I tell you.

After that I stopped over at Delium’s house, where he hand delivered me a postcard that he wrote me while he was in Italy last week. Never let it be said that that man won’t save money on postage. Then Biogirl and I went on a field trip to the burbs where we got lost in a mall parking lot. And then we got lost in a mall. Both Biogirl and I have a good sense of direction, but there is something about this particular place that makes us lose all sense of where we are. Luckily, we made it out alive.

Then Nordic Boy and I went to the recycling station at the local dump, as we sometimes do on a Sunday. Biogirl pointed out that this just might be the closest thing our family has to Sunday worship. Recycling at the dump. Amen.

Then Nordic Boy and I went to the mall (two different malls in ONE DAY, people. I am not a mall person, so this was truly spectacular). And, as we were walking through Nordstrom, Nordic Boy asked me if I was still having trouble finding a good pair of boots. To which I said YES, and also that I am breaking up with the boot industry for now. He then asked me where I had looked for boots, and I listed off every shoe store known to humanity, including online. Also including Nordstrom, where we were standing. And then, this happened.

Him: So you couldn’t find anything at ANY of those places?
Me: Nope.
Him: Wow. That’s a lot of places. You really looked in every one of those places?
Him: So you’re just going to be bootless for now?
Me: I guess. I literally have perused every boot on earth.
Him: Well, I don’t know. What about those?

And he pointed at this pair of boots. Right there in front of us. AND THEY WERE LOVELY.

Me: Wait, but, how?
Him: Those are cool, right?
Me: But! Wait, those were not here when I looked last week! Nor were they on the website! Where did they come from?
Him: I don’t know. But I think you should try them on.

So I did, and they rocked, and I got them. Because Nordic Boy is apparently the Shoe Whisperer.

Sunday evening was spent on the couch watching tivo’d episodes of Stewart and Colbert. While eating my birthday cookies. And thinking about my new boots. That I bought with my birthday money. None of which I had to organize or orchestrate myself.


  1. Can he come shop with me? I have been looking for new black and brown boots for 2 years now and can't find anything. I am at the point of despair that I will have to go another winter without boots to wear to work.

  2. I'm jealous of NB's shoe department mojo. My wife looked high and low, too, but I was not able to conjure the perfect pair for her when we were standing in Nordstrom's. We left under a pall of despair. If NB decides to make a side-biz out of this, sign us up.There were a ton of things I really like about this post, but I'm at work so I'll just say thanks for the smiles.

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