As my birthday month is upon me, I decided to take a page from the master of all birthday celebrations. What Would Jesus do? Don’t we all know it! A month of cookies, candy, and cocktails. Ok, J only took twelve days to party, but he wasn’t leaving until wise men showed up with cologne and gift cards. Bring a tree in the house! Why not? Of course, the manger was better suited for this adornment, but works for me. Go tell it on the mountains. Yes! Yes! It’s my burtday. Gonna pahty like it’s my pahty. Drink Bacardi like it’s my burtday. Send cards! Lots-oh-cards. Which reminds me of a funny/not funny phenomenon. For most of my adult life, I sent Christmas cards. Always sent a picture, and usually wrote a note, especially to people I didn’t see very often. Took time. Time when I could have been eating, I mean baking, decorated cookies. Then a couple years ago I never got the photo together, and realized many people were just doing the Shutterfly thing so I just stopped. WELL, I suppose I should have seen it coming, but I quit getting cards. All those years when I thought I was front and center in everyone’s mind, I was just a reciprocal obligation. No need to wish me a merry because I didn’t wish you a merry. The handful I did get went into a pretty bowl instead of wrapped around my entry arch. I figure by next year, they will be displayed on the back of my toilet. Plenty of room sniff. So back to my birthday! No, wait. While I’m being all cranky pants, I might as well continue. Why is everyone saying they are so blessed?? I’ve heard it way too much lately. So, does that mean some of us are unblessed? Would you keep telling everyone how rich you are? Or how beautiful? Just sayin. Glad you’re blessed. I guess? Now my birthday whew. I know some don’t like celebrating anymore, but that ain’t me, babe. Wrap it up, take me out, blow those candles, and keep ‘em coming!!! #jinglethosebells #rockinaroundthekarentree #blessed