WordPress

Holy shizzlesticks! My birthday weekend started off so much better than last year when everyone in my entire family forgot about it!

On Saturday, I found out that I had been Freshly Pressed for my latest post about Coming Clean About My Age.

Everyone knows that the folks at WordPress smoke crack never pick your best piece to be FP’d, right? But, hey, I’m not one to look a birthday gifthorse in the mouth, so I’ll just say: Yay! *fist pump woot woot* and welcome to my new subscribers! And to you new peeps, I beg of you to click on anything else. Seriously, go back into the archives and just click on something. That piece was not representative of my writing prowess. *rolls eyes*

But I still retweeted their tweet! Don’t judge me.

Before he left to go golfing this morning, Hubby brought in Saturday’s mail, and I saw I’d received 17 holiday catalogues, a few bills, and an envelope filled with coupons for hair removal.

But.

There was also a card from my parents which included their traditional gift: a check made out in the amount of the number of years I’ve been on the planet plus one extra dollar for good luck. So I’m pretty sure I’m going to DSW at some point this week. The card also contained sentimental words from my mother and the annual birthday poem composed by my father. (Last year, my parents sent me an empty envelope. It’s true.  But my dad emailed me my birthday poem a few days later.) As I was reading their card, they called to sing “The Birthday Song.” Thanks for sharing 50% of your DNA with me, Mom & Dad!

I got a lot of Facebook love and a bunch of sweet tweets. But a really great one came from Dawn Sticklen and Amy Stevens. I kind of played yenta and helped to connect them out there in Missouri. They obviously met up for a cuppa Joe and sent me a little birthday love!

Later our very hot FedEx guy came bearing a package from my brother and my sister in law and their family.

While I was outside, I saw I’d received another package. It was just sitting there all lonely on my front stoop. I ripped into it and found an autographed copy of Fabio Bueno‘s new book Wicked Sense. I can’t wait to start it — right after I start finish this month’s neighborhood book club selection.

Back in the house, I showered and dressed in my long purple gown. You know the way you would on the Sunday morning of your 45th year. I went outside to chat it up with my neighbors when who came sidling up my driveway? Jeff Probst! I was like: Whaaaaaat?

That’s when he told me I am going to be a contestant on Survivor25.

Or Amber West sent me this sweet picture which made me smile and consider what life would be like as a brunette.

I swear, I’m chortling in my joy.

Who knows what the rest of the day might hold in store, but so far this has been a very good day. Thanks to all of you for staying with me to celebrate yet another birthday! I’m closing comments because I feel like I already got plenty of comment love HERE.

Wow, I am hungover.

I’ve been partying hard all day.

Why? Well, yesterday was my blogoversary!

Yes, I started this thing up on May 13, 2010 at 6:23 pm.

And a certain someone posted yesterday at 5:21 pm.

Yes, some people posted after that time, but like they do it on The Price is Right, I went for the person who got the closest without going over.

So that certain someone is going to win a new car something kinda cool.

There are, of course, strings attached.

So I just have to make sure that this person is cool with strings.

And yes it involves writing.

Thanks to all of you for helping to encourage me with my writing.

Love your favorite teacher and twit,

xoxorasjacobson

Tweet this Twit @RASJacobson

Picture me in third grade, roller skating with a certain someone special. Yummy Boy Billy is shorter than I am, but he is an awesome skater, and we are zooming around the rectangular gymnasium to The Bay City Rollers’ (what else?) “Saturday Night.” Suddenly, Yummy Boy decides to cross his right skate over his left on the turn. He falls, dragging me down with him. I was wearing my favorite pair of Levis, and they tore at the knee. I was so pissed. It was over before it started.

Fast forward to high school, a much beloved boyfriend got me one of those Cabbage Patch dolls for Valentine’s Day. Had I asked for a Cabbage Patch doll? No. Those suckers were creepy. (Still are.) But he gave me one, and in exchange for his gift, I gave him tongue. ‘Nuff said.

In college, I dated a guy who insisted that Valentine’s Day was an excuse for capitalist pigs to convince the masses they needed to buy ridiculous items to convince their companions of their undying love. Yeah, he was a cheap bastard. Our first Valentine’s Day together, he bought me a slice of pizza. For our second Valentine’s Day, he bought me a pencil with a heart eraser on the end of it. (Was he frickin’ kidding me?) For our third Valentine’s day, he bought me a fish tank. Why? Because he wanted fish. Still, it was better than nothing, and the bubbler turned out to be a lovely, relaxing way to fall asleep. We stayed together for one more year (what was I thinking?) but I believe things actually ended on or near Valentine’s Day, so he found a way to get out of that rather nicely. Oh, and when things went south, the fish tank stayed with him. Nice.

Husband is much better at Valentine’s Day. When we were in the “I-so-want-to-impress-this-woman” phase of our relationship, he made an amazing dinner at his friend Brian’s house. (Okay, maybe Brian made the dinner, but I’m sure Husband helped). We ate escargot and filet mignon and a green salad. And we drank wine. It should be noted that this was around the time that I punted a wineglass across Hubby’s living room floor causing it to smash against a wall into a zillion little pieces and, as an added bonus, coat the wall in a fabulous shade of blood-red. You would think someone would have thought to hand me a plastic glass, but no. That was the Valentine’s Day that I smashed an irreplaceable wine glass (hand blown in Germany and borrowed from Brian’s mother) against Brian’s stereo. (For all you young’uns out there, a stereo is a device we old folks used to use to play our music.) Anyway, Hubby wasn’t mad at me. Brian’s mother probably was, but Hubby made me feel okay about being human.

Over the years, Hubby has brought me flowers and made me breakfast. We’ve gone skiing, seen concerts, done great dinners. Lots of stuff. I don’t know what we’re doing this year, but Hubby did teach me that I am worth slightly more than the cost of a slice of pizza or a pencil. And for that, I am grateful.

I am also grateful to know that I do not have to work that hard as Hubby is genuinely happy with a bag of York Peppermint Patties – and a little tongue. ‘Nuff said.

I’ve been considering getting an e-reader for a long time because I read a lot of books, but I hate the clutter that they leave behind. In fact, a Facebook friend recently commented on my sloppy bookshelves which were in the backdrop of a photo. Can you imagine? (Thanks a lot, Todd!)

Anyway, I have been holding out on getting an e-reader for three reasons:

1) Sheer laziness: For a long time, I just couldn’t justify moving up “Research e-readers” in the queue ahead of “Buy new bra.” Guess what? Went to Victoria’s Secret yesterday! 😉

2) Fear. I am definitely afraid that the e-reader could become a chore, another gadget that I have to charge and worry about losing. I worry that I won’t like the experience of an e-reader because I like to write in my books. Back in 1940, Mortimer Adler told his readers in his article “How to Mark Up a Book” that:

The physical act of writing, with your own hand, brings words and sentences more sharply before your mind and preserves them better in your memory.

As a teacher, I could not agree with him more. And yeah, I know you can highlight and leave notes with these gadgets, but there is nothing like flipping through an old book and finding my old handwritten scribble to remind me where I was at a particular point in time. I pick up favorite old books all the time and giggle when I find: “This is sooo mom!” or “Make husband read this whole paragraph!” I’m not sure I’ll have that same experience with the e-reader.

3) There is something creepy about e-readers. I don’t know. I’m not anti-technology or anything, but it’s like when I found out one publisher of the latest version of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn had taker out the “n-word” and replaced it with the word “slave,” I got a little bent out of shape. Things felt all Big Brothery to me. I worry that libraries are going to start closing, and I love libraries – even though, these days, they seem to have become places where the mentally unstable like to hang out to avoid the inclement weather. I don’t know, for me, books are as much a part of my head as they are my heart. I’m not so sure I’ll feel that in an e-reader.

Still, Valentine’s Day is coming up, and all the stores seem to be insinuating that the best lovers buy their significant others e-readers, so yesterday, I drove around town trying out various e-devices. I needed to feel them in my own hands, see what they could and could not do.

And so I am definitely leaning in one direction, and I must admit, it is not the direction in which I thought I would be going.

Without dragging things out (you know, the way I usually do), I figured I’d ask you, my beloved readers, for your opinions.

 

Note: iPads are not in the running. (I don’t need all those bells and whistles. Plus I need to be able to read outside, and the iPad has too much glare.)

For those of you who have e-readers, can you tell me which one you have, what you love most about the one you have, and if you had a chance to do it all over again, if you would make the same purchase. If not, what would you choose now?