Pearl Harbor Baby

That's right. It's my birthday. I have to tell you, aside from the fact that I have a sore neck, I don't feel any different.

Ok. Today, I got an e-mail from a friend, wishing me a Happy Birthday/Pearl Harbor Day (my Dad used to call me up and sing "Remember Pearl Harbor" every year. He hasn't done it today - but I'll see him this evening.)

She also asked if Mary Q. (not her real name) had sent me birthday greetings.

Mary Q. is a woman both of us used to work with. She's a veteran on-air personality of the area I live in. I call her "The Goddess of the Lehigh Valley..." She smokes a lot, wears so much perfume, I always smelled her before I saw her, and was generally... well, kind of scatterbrained.

Her birthday is today. I know this - because, well, don't you kind of know who's birthday is on the same day as yours?

Each year, I'd say "Happy Birthday" to her and each year - she'd stare at me incredulously. "How on earth did you remember it was my birthday?" I'd remind her that it was my birthday too. The next year, the cycle would repeat.

It was a little embarassing.

So. Just so I don't miss anyone, Happy Birthday to the state of Delaware, Tom Waits, and Larry Bird. Many Happy Returns.