…of my 39th birthday will be spent snuggling up to my sweet hubs, who gave me the funniest card. I’m getting a yarn spree for my birthday (wheee!!!) instead of stuff for the house, which is what we had agreed on earlier for birthdays and stuff, stuff for the house. But I like the yarn spree idea much better. 
I got cut roses and an flowering plant from my brother, a pearl necklace from my mother, and a check from my father. At work, JA announced over the intercom that it was my birthday (“It’s Lys’ birthday. The girl in the red shirt. Let’s sing happy birthday to her.” She is *loud*) and then proceeded to sing Happy Birthday at the top of her lungs. Oh. My. Dear. All day my cow-orkers wished me happy birthday and after JA (her name is an anagram of “jaunty as inane” on Sternest) pulled her little stunt, all the customers did too. It was really nice, even if my face turned as red as my shirt. (“Birthday girl to the register bay, birthday girl to the register bay.”)
I’m close to being done with The Bug’s carriage blanket; I’ve started on the white, have two blocks of that and then two blocks of the dark purple. Maybe I can finish it by the shower (Saturday. Today’s Wednesday. Night. Hmph.). I’ve got to drive it like a Mack truck if I want to get it done.
I’m listening to Amy Winehouse’s “Rehab, ” (“You’re tryin’ to make me go to rehab and I say no, no, no…”) from her album “Back To Black.” She’s really good, really loungey. They’ve been playing “You Know I’m No Good” at work. Awesome. I didn’t know who it was, but NiHu told me. We saw her on some chat show on the BBC with either David Tennant or John Barrowman. They were making fun of the “Rehab” song. Well, time to go to snuggle. ‘Nighty night!
