Birthday Fairy

When I was a little girl, being the birthday girl meant I that wore a gold paper crown and carried amagic wand (a star on the end of a foil-wrapped paper-towel roll), and got to be Queen for a Day, and make wishes.

My friends and I ran through sprinklers, played on tire swings, blew bubbles, and ate Carvel ice cream cakes under the tall leafy trees.

Later, when everyone had gone home, my grandfather would pull the big red book of fairy tales (probably a Reader's Digest edition) off the shelf behind his recliner, and I'd sit on his lap, and he'd read to me.

I liked the more obscure fairy tales, best, the ones Disney never mangled, but I also had a special fondness for Sleeping Beauty.

In the traditional version of The Sleeping Beauty, faeries, invited as godmothers, celebrate the birth of a longed-for baby girl by gifting her with gifts of beauty, wit, grace, and musical talents.

Today, in celebration of my 35th birthday, I wish to bestow similar gifts upon all my friends in the blogging community.

Translation: Comment here between 12:00 AM and 11:59 PM CDT on 17 August 2005, and I will offer you a gift from my heart.

All gifts are offered at the discretion of the giver, and are final. Some may be accompanied by small doses of affection, humor, sap, or snark. Returns and exchanges are encouraged. One size fits most.

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Jungle Fever?

The rain that has visted today, in short bursts, may have cleaned the air, but it did nothing to break the heat, and now stepping outside is like walking into a jungle. I keep hearing the line Gary Sinise uttered in Forest Gump to take care of your feet, in such conditions.

My feet, when I'm home alone, are generally bare, with flip-flops handy for emergencies, or trips outside when the ground is hot.

I don't think they'd be terribly useful in the jungle.

The steamy heat makes me glad we have powerful a/c, and the rain has kept a soft smile on my face all day, but what I'm most happy about today is…dusting.

Yes, dusting.
Maybe I'm really just getting high from Lemon Pledge, but dusting makes me remember being seven years old, and helping my grandmother with her usual chores, and listening as she sang to her violets.

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