An Open Letter to Tim on his Birthday.

[Aside to readers who are not Tim: Did you know that today is Jarrett's birthday? I would tell you to leave him a comment, saying something birthdayish, but of course his site has been deluged with comment spam (happy birthday, indeed). So you can't do that. But won't you join me in contemplating his greatness right here?]

Dear Jarrett (though there are those who call him ... Tim):

Greetings and salutations on the occasion of your most illustrious birth! (And hi, Mrs. Tim's Mom. I still have not practiced in an awfully long time. But nice work on the birthing!) Here is hoping that you are not being pounded (as we speak) by the horrid remnants of the horrid winter storm of late, but rather that the sun is shining on you in all (NOTE: not quite all--e.) your glory with all its glory.

Happiest of happy birthdays, mein bruvver! This is your sister, visiting Isis and sending you wonderful, warm, bacon-wrapped well-wishes for your big day. Are you having cake? Wrapped packages of love? Are there...balloons? You are great and full of greatness and deserve all kinds of fun things. Like balloons. Helium balloons too, shiny metallic ones, not those piddly kinds you blow up yourself which smell like old toys. But that's beside the point. Happy birthday! I love you!

Yes, cake is an important part of things. And bacon. Or bacon cake. No, stop that, it's silly.

But maybe worth investigating. I mean, how bad could it be? If you leave off the frosting, I bet it would be delicious.

Or if that sounds altogether too disgusting, you could just settle for ... a omelette. Because I KNOW that you do LOVE eggs.

But wait! Bacon is good with syrup, right? How much of a leap is it from syrup to cake? I mean really.

Ahem.

Okay. I'll be good. (sulking)

But back to you. Because after all, it is YOUR birthday. We are most grateful for this day to tell you how grateful we are for all your greatness. And this is not just about all the mighty mighty mixtapes (though those did come up in conversation today...). Nor is it only about The Way You Rock Out. And although it is not only about the pleasure we take in reading your blog, I do want to say how MUCH I enjoyed your recent travel post in all its lyrical beauty. Rather we are thankful for the brilliant, hilarious, ridiculous, insightful (slather, slather, slather--e.) AHEM! and now I should say INDULGENT friend that you are.

Have yourself a most rocking of days.

Love,
Isis & e.

Court's in session (now here comes the judge).

OK, OK, no more politics: I am afraid that if I write another political post, Joe will taunt me a second time. (Go, Joe, by the way, kicking butt in the 50 fly!)

Take a moment today and wish NCMarcus a bon anniversaire: even though it is many years ago now that we would always celebrate together, and even though birthday cards do not seem to be something I am capable of getting into the mail, I always think of her mid-November, of chocolate bricks and somewhat less successful chocolate mousse, of swingset conversations and beachwalks, of rose crusades, of too much Depeche Mode, of too many black turtlenecks. Now she's a mom too, and with a new idea of what a birthday means. So I, too, thank her mother for the work of bringing her into this world, and even though I know that was a huge labor for her, November 15 is still for me and always a celebration of Maman Marcus herself.

Now, the news.

You will be pleased to know that although my plea of guilty was accepted today in court, I got off without a fine. I hardly had to explain a thing, which is a shame, because I had a D.A. MacCoy-style argument planned, to explain to the jury why condemning me to punishment beyond what I have already endured would not serve American justice or make the city safe. Might have worked, too, except that there was no jury. The judge seemed to understand, though, that I neither meant to do it nor planned to do it again.

All in all, it was not much of a Law & Order scene. No blond assistant DAs, no inspiring oratory, no tricky message at the end. The main message seemed to be that if you can get off work to get to court and explain your sad self, then the system will not punish you as it would if, say, you might lose your job for missing work. The courtroom of our fair city was not as glamorous either: the dark wood paneling surrounding the judge's dais was diminished a bit by the flush fluorescent lighting and old-school ceiling panels.

I am curious, though: the judge suggested defensive driving classes as a way of getting rid of the points on my license. Maybe I did not make my situation clear to him: it was in trying to remain aware of the jackass behind me who was driving like, well, a jackass, that I did not see the light change. I am curious to see whether this kind of matter might be covered in the class: which parts of driving is it that I am supposed to be defensive about? More than likely, in being a Hermione-like too-many-questions-asking presence in the classroom, I'll just force the teacher to flunk me for spite.