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May 30, 2002: Another year

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The day started off as most of my days do. One of the more persistent of our set of seven fuzzy alarm clocks decided to wake me just before the electric alarm clock went off, by trying to burrow through my eye with her nose, and also stuffing her whiskers into my ear. I’ll admit it’s an effective way of rousing me, and she was purring happily, knowing that once awake I was required to give her pets, but there are days, oh yes there are days…

While at work I was roped into doing some training on the system for a new hire – a 90-minute whirlwind tour of half the system (and I’ll do the other half tomorrow). The past two days I did it for another new person, so I think I’m starting to get better at the whole off-the-cuff mode of training. In the meantime, I coerced two coworkers into going to lunch with me, and we chatted over our food, the conversation inevitably leading to people who get sex changes.

It was a quiet evening. My younger sister called, and as she was saying her goodbyes, my two-year-old niece finally managed to actually say my name. Dinner was a low-key affair. We’d invited all the family living locally, but my dad was called off to a project and had to fly to southern CA this morning and my brother-in-law had to work in Berkeley today so my sister and nephews couldn’t make it down in time, so it was just us and my mom. But it was fun just the same. There was salmon, asparagus, and yams, all grilled with a teriyaki glaze by my marvelous husband. There was an ice cream cake with my favorite flavor from Ben & Jerry’s. There were presents to open – books and fun t-shirts, sheet music for the piano and a fat jar full of wonderful things for the bath.

Readers Digest published a series of these books decades ago, and I’ve been slowly searching for them on eBay. I tracked down two earlier – one published the year I was born, and one a few years younger, but some – the ones I wanted most – have been elusive. After my mom left, I sat down at the piano while Richard headed upstairs, and played from the new book of sheet music she gave me – one of those elusive ones that she managed to find, despite my own futile searching. My mom and dad have a copy, and for years I’ve gone to their house and skimmed through the pages, playing a song here and there.

So this evening I played, with the house slowly darkening into night, my fingers fumbling over some of the chords but remembering others.

And it was a perfectly lovely birthday.

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