A couple of years ago, Skippy told me to be like the cork: sure, you get drowned by breaker waves, but you can just pop right back up again.

Fine. But you know, being a bloody cork means drown, gasp, drown, gasp…

Kind of like how I defined reincarnation during a recent study session before our priesthood exam: Lather, rinse, repeat.

Birthday summary: tea in bed. Phone call from my parents. Open gifts from parents. Watch cartoons. Go window shopping – window shopping because not one of our medieval stores had anything spectacular. I did get a Japanese bamboo roll pillow, though, and I am now an official Lush fan. That was my present from my husband: carte blanche in the Lush store. Mmm. Bath bombs, bubble bars, massage bars, soap, powder, face scrubs… my bathroom now smells like Lush, which is pretty darned all right in my book. Then sushi for dinner, where the staff gave me a piece of cheesecake for dessert. Anyone who knows me knows that cheesecake isn’t my thing. They’re always so kind, though, so I looked at my husband and said, “I’m going to eat some of this.” It turned out not to be such a sacrifice: it was the lightest, non-cheesey cheesecake I’ve ever tasted, more creamy than anything else. Then we went home and had a bottle of my dad’s amazing red pinot noir.

This morning, I woke up way too early, and wrote a short story before nine AM. I know; I think I must be sick, too. (Yes, Ceri, it’s on its way…)