Sorry, not rheumatoid arthritis. Just me.

Weeks before my birthday, JG offered to treat me to an outlet trip as my gift, and I took him up on it right away. It’s not quite the same as opening presents, but he knew my spending money was tight this year, and it would be just as fun for me to sniff out bargains. The only question was when we should go:

JG: Do you want to go on your actual birthday?

RA: Well, I’m not sure because Sister is coming over, and we have to go to the grocery store before that.

JG: Right…

RA: Do you think we could do the store run and still get to the outlets and back in time before she gets here?

JG: It would probably be tight.

RA: Yeah. So I think I’d rather wait.

JG: And I know you’re a fan of the extendo-birthday.

RA: Well, I wasn’t going to say it.

And so, on Saturday, we made our semi-annual visit to the outlets in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, also known as Amish Country. The day wasn’t perfect: the skies were miserably gray, cold rain sprinkled down and slicked up sidewalks, and buses delivered masses of slow-moving people, per usual. Despite that, however, the crowds were down because of the weather, and JG and I parked strategically and moved expeditiously through the stores. I came away with a satisfactory haul:

Meanwhile, JG made out like a bandit: a pair of sneakers, two pairs of brown shoes, a pair of mesh warm-up pants, a pair of jeans, two pairs of dress pants, two collared shirts, and — the biggest triumph of all — a blazer. People, I have been wearing JG down to buy one of these for a very long time, and it finally happened! He found a dark blue, textured cotton jacket, and when he put it on over his jeans and sweater he uttered a sentence that will live on in infamy:

“Man, I look good.”

And how! What have I been saying all this time?! Just when I thought the situation could not get any better, the jacket rang up at $30! Can I get an “amen”?

I was so excited that I called my sister as I waited in line to pay at a different store. She was appropriately stunned at the news, as she is well aware of my campaign platform of Get JG into a Freaking Blazer Already. She said, “This is, like, the biggest thing since The Pea Coat Victory of 2008.”

Truer words have never been spoken.

Over the weekend, I heard through the high school grapevine that a friend’s brother, a law student in New York City, was in a serious accident recently. I heard bits and pieces of information like car accident, train accident, induced coma, amputated foot, and other such disturbing snippets. No one had the full story. It was upsetting. I snapped at my parents when they couldn’t fill in the gaps.

I should also mention that this law student is the younger brother of Kip, who passed away seven years ago today.

Sorry. I need to take a moment.

(Deep breath)

Okay.

My mom sent me all the information she could as it trickled through the small town system, and the bottom line is that the brother is in stable condition. He was struck by a train two weeks ago, and he suffered head trauma. Part of his foot had to be amputated due to the bones shattering, and he had fluid in his lungs that required a respirator. Over the weekend, he came off the respirator and was able to squeeze people’s hands on command and make more focused eye contact. He is lucky to be alive, and things are improving every day.

But, oh, the whole situation wrenches me. My breath catches in my throat, and I can’t help but remember the how he used to be the kid brother who tagged along with Kip and our classmates, how he crowed with triumph when he outgrew me. And I think about how he is in a hospital now with a long road to recovery, and how his parents have to be immeasurably strong. Again. I can’t imagine. I don’t want to. I don’t want to think about it.

On Monday, I wrote my annual card to Kip’s mom. This time, I told her about the picture in my office and how it helps me remember Kip and their family. I wrote about how JG and I are doing and the types of plans we have for the summer. Since I didn’t yet have substantive information, I wrote that I heard that perhaps their other son had been in an accident, and I would be thinking of him especially.

Now, after I’ve read the details, my paltry little card seems so stupid and meaningless, even though I know it’s not. I just feel so helpless in my flailing attempt to reach out and break through the parents’ inevitable grief and worry. And then that very strong wave of missing Kip washes over me, and I am sad in that familiar way. But mostly, today, my heart hurts that his parents are struggling over the pain and recovery of their other son.

But I have to remember that he is lucky to be alive, and things are improving every day.

- – - – -

There is a benefit in the works to help the family with medical expenses, so if you would like information about contributing, please e-mail me. Thanks in advance for your thoughts and prayers in this situation.

On Saturday, I woke up obscenely early by no fault of an alarm clock. I lay in bed for five, ten, and then fifteen minutes with increasing certainty that I was not going to find my way back to sleep any time soon, so I slid out of bed as quietly as possible. As long as I was up, I figured I’d take the morning dog walk, which was not an entirely altruistic intention, since it would leave my afternoon open for a nice long nap.

I had padded to my dresser when JG rolled over and asked me if I was okay. Because, you know, if I am up before 7am on a weekend with no real plans in sight, there is probably something wrong.

“I’m just awake,” I said. “I thought I’d walk the dog for you.”

“But it’s your birthday!” he protested.

Yes, yes, it was. Shrug. It didn’t feel like my birthday, and I say that with no blame attached. It’s just how things worked out. We weren’t having an official party, so I hadn’t spent the week researching and making desserts. JG wasn’t teasing me about secret presents because his gift to me is a trip to the very awesome outlets this coming weekend. I hated to be a downer, but I wasn’t really psyched about the whole birthday thing this year. It wasn’t that I was getting older or that I felt sulky for not having a party. I just didn’t feel any anticipation, and that’s what I most associate with a birthday. Instead, I woke up super early for no reason on a Saturday, and the only thing I could think of was to walk the dog. How much more pathetic could I get?

JG wouldn’t let me go, at least not right away. We talked for an hour or so, and then I did end up taking the morning walk to free up my afternoon for lazing about. We made the grocery list together and zoomed through the store before the madding crowds arrived, and then JG made me my requested breakfast: a vegetable egg-white omelet with chewy bacon. We caught up on DVRed television, during which I got all teary during the Parenthood pilot no fewer than three times. So, basically, it was a very relaxing Saturday morning with all of my favorite things, and there’s not much more one can ask for, birthday or not.

And then!

My sister and her boyfriend arrived to hang out with us! I may be biased, but my sister is one of the most festive people I know, and she snapped me out of my non-birthday funk. I knew they were coming up, but it was so nice to see them and the giant bag from Georgetown Cupcake. Let the birthday festivities go forth!

We played Facts in Five! We went to the Half Moon for dinner! I ordered crab nachos! And ate a steak! And then rolled out of the restaurant! JG produced a surprise birthday cake! A lemon one! And there were cupcakes! My sister popped open a bottle of Prosecco! I proceeded to beat her twice in a row in Wii Sports Gladiator dueling! I think I fell dead asleep after that part, which is hardly surprising given the night’s consumption, including two martinis at dinner (one pomegranate and one dirty) and half a bottle of Prosecco.

Last night, I packed up the mountains of remaining desserts. First, I bagged and froze the two coconut cupcakes that only I would truly appreciate. Then, I cut up slices of birthday cake that I could fit into individual containers to eat throughout the week. Then, I took a step back and surveyed what was left over: five cupcakes and a third of the cake. Hm.

I could send it to school with JG, I thought. … Or I could keep it all! We froze our wedding cake for a year — why not all of this stuff?!

Without stopping to question my logic (and caloric intake), I bagged the rest of the cupcakes and stuffed them into the freezer door, and then I stored the last four slices of birthday cake into a large plastic container with a parchment paper barrier between slices. Now, the freezer is like a birthday reprise just waiting to happen. Oh, yes. I proclaim that my birthday is in effect for as long as that cake lasts!

Lady Susan asked:

So this isn’t a question, but rather a request: I would like to see examples of these rather infamous spreadsheets of yours.

and Aleta added:

Do you keep a spreadsheet for blog post topics? (I second the request to see examples! of any kind of spreadsheet.)

To answer the easy part first, no, I do not keep a spreadsheet for blog post topics. I do have some long-standing drafts waiting in the folder to be filled in, but I don’t have an organized Master Plan.

As for the spreadsheet samples … well … I thought long and hard about this. I wasn’t sure what would be most generally useful, and I don’t like slogging through details without a degree of certainty that people will hang in there with me. Besides, do we all mean the same thing when we say “spreadsheet”? This is not a formal definition, but I call information organized into columns and rows a table, whereas a spreadsheet is a table that involves automatic calculation by way of formulas or macros. Anyway, after all of that deliberation, I decided to go through the basics of one type of spreadsheet I use a lot and then field questions from there. Okay? Okay.

Let’s jump right in to the spreadsheet I use most often, which I call “deposit-debit.” Continue reading →