So, Gene’s birthday was Monday. I won’t tell you how old he is because then he’d look like a major cradle robber, being married to a 29 year old. I will just tell you he was born during Woodstock. Except not at Woodstock.
(:::Pauses to consider Blanche at Woodstock::: )
(Ha ha ha).
Anyway, I took the day off of work. I spent the morning at the Nissan dealership (oil change! filter change! something or other cleaning! $200 and change! Whee!) and of course at Dr. P’s office (see separate ranting post). (Except I left out the part where my appointment was for 10:45 and I didn’t even get out of the Waiting Room of Doom until 11:30).
And then Gene and I went shooting. He’s a membership of a local wildlife association (don’t worry, we didn’t shoot anything but targets, and believe me, the targets got the worst of it). I shot big guns and I did pretty well. I don’t like guns, but I do think that when I have shot them it gives me a respect for what they can do. And I know one thing: I do not want to get shot. Holy cow that must hurt. It’s hard enough pulling the friggin’ trigger.
And, I made a birthday cake for Gene that we started eating on Saturday. It was this cake and it was delightful. I made it from scratch. Yes, really. The recipe calls for cake flour, but I couldn’t find any. I should probably have looked longer, but the cake was still good. (Oh, and while I was baking the cake, Gene bought me a bouquet of flowers. Yay!)