Bon-Bon watching: round three

First, let me say that I really like my new job. A lot. Granted I'm now in the thick of a pretty major story coming out of my library (for the record, the urine was actually spilled, and if you are a stickler for language like me you will understand that there's a pretty big - really big - difference between pouring and spilling; we are going to lengths to have this corrected both in the media and in the official incident report), but that only seems to somehow add to the excitement of each day. The people are great, the work is interesting, I really like being around the books and the learning, and I have to admit that I really like being in Harvard Square and actually having a sane-enough schedule where I can go out to one of the many great little places to eat for lunch each day. Who knew there could be a life like this?

And then let me say that part of me hopes that my niece, Maria, does not dance in Albano's Nutcracker next year - the snobby part of me that doesn't like going to ballets in sports arenas and watching the kids in the audience wave around their fiber-optic souvenir swords. Of course, there's also the loving aunt in me who finds it a great way to spend my afternoon, watching my niece dance around stage during the Bon Bon scene. Just don't ask me which Bon Bon she is. I was convinced she was one of the Bon Bons on the left, but turns out she was one of the ones on the right. Minus one for Aunt Rosanne!

But not minus one for everyone in the family celebrating a December birthday. After the Nutcracker we all headed back to my sister's family's house for some (amazingly delicious) dinner and cake to celebrate Maria's performance and also her birthday, my sister's mother-in-law's birthday, Doug's birthday, and Rose's birthday. Rose is the dog, and even she was in the group photo. Everyone seems to call the dog Rosie and that's what my parents used to call me as a kid (my father still does). I am still not able to not react when someone calls out, "Rosie!" I even somehow snap to attention when someone says, "Rosie, bad dog!" I don't know what this means.

I do know what it means for Doug to be in the above photo, though. It means that his birthday is coming up. In about a few hours, actually. Tomorrow Doug turns 34. Does he look 34? Hardly. Even though the mustache makes him look to me more adult and sophisticated than his beard did (In his beard he looked to me like a cuddly grizzly, especially when it got bushy. But with his mustache he's much more used-car-salesman, and don't ask me why this is an image of sophistication for me.), I still don't think of my husband as 34. I think of us as ageless, actually. I see photos of us when we were younger, like when we first met (We met twelve years ago! Can you believe that?), and it seems like yesterday. I believe those lines about age being a state of mind only. If you don't think about how old you are, you won't feel old. I hope Doug doesn't feel old. To me he's still the guy who sticks carrots up his nose at dinner. Happy birthday, Stinker!