Monday was Bryguy’s 35th birthday and we rang it in with free birthday dinner at Habenero’s. It’s no Mexico Lindo, but they do have $2.99 margaritas every day for happy hour AND they give you a free birthday dinner. Anyway, we had a nice birthday afternoon and evening. We did the chores around the homestead super fast, skied at Maasto Hiito, I dropped him off at happy hour, drove the pups home, and came back into town to have dinner with him. The temperatures have gotten cold again here, so we couldn’t leave the pups in the car so the birthday boy enjoyed an extra libation. Dinner was nice and then we came home, he opened his gifts (thanks from Bry – you now who you are), and we watched a movie. Not too bad for boring old 35 on a school night. The night before his birthday, Bryan was reflecting on his age and said that at 35, he should be more settled and sliding along in some job, dreaming about retirement, not just starting his phd. I scoffed at him and reminded him that not everyone is lucky and brave enough to continue chasing after their dreams throughout their lives. His birthday really got me thinking about that–about how lucky I am that I found Bryan, a man who refuses to settle, always has his eye on the next adventure, and not only talks the talk, but walks it too.
Enough about that. The most hilarious thing that came for Bryan though, was a card from my Grandma. This is it:
At first glance, this might not seem that hilarious but it comes from a longstanding joke in my family regarding my Grandma and the Beatles. It all started at dinner one night four or five years ago. My family (sadly sans me and Bryguy) was eating a nice meal and talking about something serious. I don’t know if it was after a school shooting or some other incomprehensible event, but they were talking about how the world has changed and other topics that come up when you’re faced with cruelty or the stupidity of human beings en masse. So they’re talking about what is at the root of cultural decline and my sweet, gentle grandma, in complete and utter seriousness, says gravely, “Well, you know it all started with those damn Beatles.” She doesn’t laugh or bat an eye, but the rest of the table erupts with laughter. I hear tell that my brother almost choked on his food, but you’d have to confirm that with him.
So they laugh and laugh about it and it becomes this ongoing family joke. Poor Grandma was dead serious that those British, long hair-wearing, mayhem-inducing young men brought on our culture’s decline, but she also recognizes why everyone else thinks it is so funny given the hippie generation (which my parents were a part of), school shootings, music by (gasp) Marilyn Manson and Eminem, etc. that that is what started it all. Maybe it did.
Enter Christmas this year. Somehow John Lennon’s assassination came up in conversation (I swear you can still come to dinner with my family: ordinarily there is lots of laughter and good times). I looked at Grandma and jokingly said, “Grandma was probably glad when they shot John Lennon.” She looked aghast and said scoldingly, “No, of course I wasn’t glad he died.” Then she looked up and quietly said, “But I can’t say I missed him.” Bryan and I could not contain ourselves and we laughed and laughed and laughed.
So, when Bryan opened the card from my grandma on his birthday and saw the four Beatles’ faces, he knew he was in for a treat. Inside it said something sweet about Bryan, but you can bet it also included the phrase, “Those damn Beatles.”
Don’t tell my grandma I blogged about that, but it’s too cute a story not to.
Anyway, this morning I got a text at 5am saying school was canceled for the day due to poor road conditions (lake effect snow) and cold weather. Hurrah! By the time I woke up, most of the wind had died down. It was very cold, but calm and lovely up on our hill. I snapped a few pictures to show you the view from the bathroom. Delightful day to be snowed in, eh?