Julie’s birthday is September 9. I won’t forget. I will break from my policy of not-signing co-workers’ birthday cards, but only pseudonymously. I’m working on a good one to sign “Bobby” for Robert Carlyle. It will have to be obviously (but accurately) Scottish and peculiarly Hamish MacBeth. Problem: He doesn’t have a catch-phrase. How about “When will my Bonnie come over the ocean? Bring back my Bonnie to me”? I think it will work after I put a kilt on it and add a “C.” to Bobby. At first I was thinking about “Just have a really good, really, really good, really good time,” and sign it “Bryan.” But if she’s not a Roxy Music fan it could fall on blind eyes. Now I’m determined to put them both on there-–not to confuse her (she’ll be able to match the handwriting), but to be playful. I’ve almost decided to give her something, too, but I can’t figure out how to give her something even half-special without her doing the math. I’d like to give her a tiny bottle of scotch, but besides the inappropriateness of alcohol in the workplace, it would point only to me. I’ll keep the brain wheels rolling on that one. September! Can I make it that far?
^The more hope I read the more my pride seethes. Between this post and the previous, the mocking couldn't be louder--though I don't remember what the next post has in store. To think of the life I'd already wasted up to this point on misplaced affection--and the worst yet to come....
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