Happy Belated Birthday, Choop!
Also, Belated Birthday update: At the Indian Restaurant the Henna artist who set up shop at a back table would not shut up as she spoke with the owner at a level that everyone else at the restaurant had to talk over. She spoke loudly of how she hated children until she was about 25. She said this over and over and over with very little variation in conversation for around 25 minutes. I was so distracted by her loud talking that I actually enjoyed my Vegetable Korma less than I should have. Her voice made food less delicious. Then I suddenly got a migraine so debilitating that we had to leave immediately, and I sat on the couch at home with my SO occasionally bringing me ice packs to put on my head. I sat there for the rest of the night, while the phone rang and different members of my family left birthday wishes for me on our answering machine as I sat right next to the machine feeling grouchy and not picking up.
Also yesterday, on Ch oop's b-day, I made the woman actor in my play cry, and I hurt my foot in a way that made it unbearable to walk.
Apparently 27 is over the hill for me.