Secrets and Confessions

May I tell you a secret? I hate birthdays! No, it's more than that. I hate my birthdays. I hate expectations. If I could wipe out expectations, I'd do it in a heartbeat. Those expectations always lead to disappointment.

I pride myself on being a good gifter, as I've written about before. Unfortunately, that makes me expect others to give accordingly.

I've been in financial chaos for a long time. It's been months since I felt I could justify a manicure and pedicure. My last massage was a gift a year ago. Nothing would make me happier than a gift card for a manicure or pedicure or massage. Or a few skeins of Noro Kureyon #149. My needs are simple!

In fact, I placed that on my Amazon wish list so smart gifters would know my needs.

Actually, a really good gift arrived in the mail from PianoLady. A book about music and a book of music. Some Bach I've never played before. Now there's a person who knows me well.

I do love the greetings that come in on Facebook. There are no expectations attached, and it makes one feel cared for.

But the gifts? Oh, well. I'm practicing my gracious responses.

Boys in high school told me I was spoiled. I guess I am.

And I guess I am 61. Oh, well.