Tomorrow is my birthday. Yes, I still celebrate my birthday like a six year old. I’m going to be 44 and I really don’t even care who knows it. I look at it this way. I’d rather have people think “Wow, that Snarky is an amazing looking 44 year old.” than “Wow, that Snarky is a terrible looking 35 year old.” Also, on the inside I’m only 22 so who cares how old the outside is.
Last week, The Pastor looked at his calendar and said “Whoa, Snarky! Your birthday is only a few days away! We need to talk about what you want.”
I was a little confused about this question. The Pastor has been married to me for almost 20 years. He should already know what I want. He should know because after 20 years of marriage you should be so super in tune with your spouse that you know these types of things without asking. I mean, last November I knew that he wanted to spend his birthday doing yard clean up and finishing the deck he was building for me. He never told me this, I just knew. Also, there is only one thing that I want and I’ve only been talking about it every day for the past year.
“Um, you already know I want goats.” I said like I was reminding a three year old that we only pee in the toilet.
“No,” The Pastor said “I need to know what you actually want for your birthday.”
“Goats.” I said a little more slowly. I swear, it’s like he wasn’t even listening.
“No, Snarky. I need to know what you actually want. If you don’t tell me, you won’t get it because the kids and I won’t know. Then you’ll end up getting something you don’t want, like cleaning supplies, and we all know that won’t end well.”
I looked at him for a long time. Like a really long time. Then, as slowly and clearly as I could possibly speak, I said “This year, for my birthday, I would like some female goats. I would like them to be dairy goats. I am not overly particular about the breed as long as they are healthy. I understand that these goats might be expensive, so this is all I am asking for. Goats. The end. No more. Buh-bye. I am speaking English, right?”
The Pastor then gave a long sigh, shook his head, and swore. Well, he practically swore. He said “Snarky, you’re not getting goats for your birthday.”
“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!” I snapped at him.
“Yes, yes Snarky I do know that. I know that because I am probably the only person on the planet who would buy you goats for your birthday. I am not buying you goats. I would like to do some traveling. You can’t travel and milk goats at the same time. They don’t let you bring your goats on airplanes and they certainly don’t allow them in hotels.”
Now, I can almost promise you that the Hilton has absolutely zero written rules that apply specifically to goats. I’m pretty sure that he didn’t even call any airlines to check on their goat policies either.
“Look.” I said “We both know I’m going to end up with goats. Everyone involved in the situation knows that, in the end, there will be goats grazing peacefully in the pasture. If we need to go somewhere, I will find someone to take care of them, just like I find someone to take care of the chickens, ducks, rabbits, and children. We both know this is going to happen, so just relax. The only question you really have to answer is ‘How many goats does Snarky deserve for her birthday?’ The answer to that question, by the way, is ‘All of them.’, but I won’t make you buy all of the goats for my birthday. A few will be just fine.”
The Pastor stared at me for a very long time. He was probably overwhelmed by my beauty. Then he asked “If you were to go out for dinner on your birthday, where would you like to go?”
“Oh, anyplace along the way to get my birthday goats would be fine!” I replied cheerfully.
The Pastor then clenched his teeth, turned, and walked away sputtering. Again, probably because he was overwhelmed by my beauty.
So, tomorrow is my birthday and I’m super excited. Super excited to meet my new birthday goats. I’ll post pictures when they arrive! In the meantime, feel free to “like” and share this blog. Also, please enjoy this picture of how young and thin and beautiful goats will make me.