By “them” I mean Herself, and by “cake” I mean “half a cinnamon roll,” and why on earth should Herself be eating cake for breakfast?
Because it’s her birthday, that’s why.
There was but a single candle on the “cake,” because record-low snowpack, record-high temperatures, drought continues, red-flag warnings, etc., et al., and so on and so forth. I lit it up and we hopped around the kitchen like crazed bunnies to The Beatles’ “Birthday,” blaring from a JBL Clip 2 fed a YouTube video by my iPhone 13 Mini. Can’t say we Revered Elders are helpless when it comes to managing all these doggone, consarned, newfangled whizbangs, whatchamacallits, and comosellamas, even the ones whose “new” is mostly wore off leaving only the “fangled” bits.
Once breakfast is in the rear view there will be a short trail run followed by some medium-light shopping, a lunch without so much cake in it, and a delicious dinner that may or not conclude with cake, depending upon whether we can get to The Range before they run out and/or close, which happens early in these dire days, when no one can afford gasoline, much less three servings of cake per diem.
You wouldn’t believe the tariff on cake. And you can trust me, because I’m in the media.
Mad Blog Media 
Happy Birthday to your Honey Bunny if I might be allowed to say that. I hope the trail running, eating and other grand escapades of the day are wonderful for both of you.
My memory challenged elder was up early and also had cake. She had discovered the coconut and orange cake that I had tucked away and when I came up to say G’mornin’ to her, she and our furry sidekick were enjoying the crumbs of remembrance.
Enjoy The Range !
Thank you, sir. My own mom had a few moments like that — more than a few, actually — and it’s a hard thing to watch, especially when the person so afflicted was once as sharp as a tack. Good on you for taking care of her.
Happy Birthday Shannon from Pat and Sandy! Since it seems to be summer, you can have a nice chilled pinot grigio with dinner. Try the Sheep Thrills brand from Italy. A much better wine then the price would indicate.
Now tell Patrick to get in the kitchen and rattle those pots and pans like I am doing right now!
Gracias, hermano. I’ll look that one up. I couldn’t recall which Provençal rosé we used to favor when I was still a drinker, back in the B-burg (Dog save Coaltrain Liquor and all who sail in her), so I grabbed a bottle of her go-to rosé, a 2024 Whispering Angel from Caves D’Esclans.
Tonight’s menu: Salmon fillets, baked with olive oil, salt, and black pepper; boiled red spuds and steamed broccoli, both tossed with Kerrygold butter, kosher salt, and black pepper; and a green salad.
I want to congratulate Herself for another lap around the sun. But mostly for keeping POG on the level. Based on his old former self-it sounds like she added many a birthday to his collection. The same goes for around here. Pretty sure I’d be “very dead” as the Brits would say had I remained running loose.
O, to be sure, Herb y’ould sage. Had I not met Herself I would have been looking up at the lawn from the underside ages ago.
That the union survived its first few years, when we were minding my mom, remains a miracle of the marital arts. It should be taught in schools, if only we had some idea of just exactly how in the hell it happened.
Happy Birthday to Herself, and shortly, to you too, O’G!
Thanks, matey. Just got back from the grocery, and soon it’ll be … SHOWTIME!
Happy Birthday, wUNNEFRFUL DAY FOR A run. Water shortages seem to be in the future for ABQ. However as a Montana refugee I am soaking up the sun and record warmth like as lizard on a rock. Sill deal with the dust bowl as it happens,
Here we are, like Cactus Ed Abbey before us, setting down roots in the Southwestern desert. Prolly have to grow spines like cactus and fangs like buzzworms.
Happy belated bday from your NC kusins. And a wonderful look for what I think is the first photo on the blog!
O, Herself makes a Special Guest Appearance from time to time, being the visually appealing half of the couple. I try to keep my face off’n the sumbitch. We must think of the chirruns and those with sensitive stomachs. Also, and too, the FBI.