Long story short -- everything's fine, but between doctor appointments, working on my Staffing Management take-home exam, birthday, and working on my Staffing paper/presentation, and then basic, everyday obligations I found myself in the rare situation where I kind of... did not realize I had dropped off the face of the earth so completely.
Birthday was wonderful -- we did not go to The Yellow Dog Cafe, as we have the past few years. For some unknown reason I was less enthused about it this year, so George made me dinner instead, and we spent Saturday together just doing goofy couple-y things, and Sunday Mom made a phenomenal birthday dinner (filet mignon with a green peppercorn sauce, oh my GOD SO GOOD), and somewhere in there was an ice cream cake from Ben & Jerry's. Mom surprised me with The King Arthur's Baker's Companion, which made me VERY happy (I was shocked she even remembered I wanted it), and I've already tried out a few recipes (zucchini lemon muffins are to die for).
The sole blemish on the weekend was our experience going to see Coraline. For a while it looked like we were going to have the entire theater to ourselves when -- FIFTEEN MINUTES INTO THE MOVIE (not the previews, the movie), a family of six came in: two adults, three children who appeared to be under the age of six, and one infant.
And sat right behind us. In an otherwise empty theater. RIGHT. BEHIND. US.
And then proceeded to talk. In conversational tones. And then the children proceeded to whine about godknows what. And then the infant started to fuss. And then the jackoffasaurus sitting behind George started to kick his seat. Oh, and about five minutes after this lot came in, another family with small children came into the theater, and sat further towards the back.
After about twenty minutes of incomprehensible rudeness and having turned around to give the adults my best "Are you fucking kidding me?" glare, I said "Fuck this" (possibly audibly; I cannot remember -- THAT'S HOW ENRAGED I WAS), I got up and nearly walked out, then decided to switch seats instead. (George, I think, was disappointed that I didn't make a beeline for the door; that's how fed up he was.) So I headed up towards the back, basically placing us closer to the OTHER family.
Dude, seriously -- who screws around with a celophane wrapper for two solid minutes? ARGH. These children were marginally better behaved, but that's not really saying much. (And having gone to the movies with R&C and their three munchkins, I am perfectly aware of the fact that it IS possible to teach children how not to behave like complete animals at the movies.)
At some point during all of this, the cockbites we moved AWAY from apparently had not turned off their cell phone, either.
Usually I'm one of those people who WILL say something in a movie theater. I WILL shush someone who is being a complete moron. I WILL turn around and let the person who is kicking my seat know that I do not appreciate their percussion solo vibrating against my tailbone. However, I did not speak up this time -- and I think I know why: I try to make it a point not to swear like a sailor in front of small children, and I was so completely furious that if I opened my mouth, the tirade would not end until I had insulted someone's parentage in language decorated vibrantly with as many creative invectives as I am capable of conceiving.
So, yes. I finally saw Coraline. No, I cannot say that I particularly enjoyed the experience. Not for lack of trying, mind.
OH. OH OH OH. And when the lights went up? And everyone left? We took a look behind us at where the other family had been sitting? OH MY SWEET MONKEY JEBUS, THE MESS THEY LEFT BEHIND WAS A PILE OF EPIC FAIL. A pile of juice boxes on the floor, wrappers, spilled popcorn, cups, GOD IT WAS FOUL. There was a trail of popcorn down the stairs. It defied words. Honestly.
So, other than THAT, it was a lovely birthday.