No 0 and No 5

It's The Great Plotnik's birthday today, but it's not so bad. Birthdays with no 0 or 5 on the end don't cause much trouble. Last year: oi. This year, no problem.

The question is always what to do, when you pretty much do what you feel like doing the rest of the time anyway. A movie, a play, a restaurant, no thanks. Ever since TGP started getting paid to review movies and plays and restaurants, he has stopped being able to enjoy going someplace and having to fork over real money. He much prefers walking to the Press Table and saying "I'm The Great Plotnik from On Line for Idiots." He likes it when they fawn over him. He likes it when they comp him to a bottle of wine or a gooey dessert or two tickets down front or a cushy screening room with a rum drink or a lovely isolated cabin on the Russian River.

A concert? No. A bike ride? Closer, but no. Too solitary. Playing b-ball with the guys? That would be great, and playing with P-Dunky and Schmekl and Nefnik would be the best of all. But that's not going to happen.

It's always about friends, isn't it? Today Mr. and Mrs. Mush are taking Plotnik and Ducknik on a private jet to the Ritz for a birthday feast. Lunch packages are incredibly expensive (plus tax and gratuity and valet parking, and more if you want soup), and then there's the matter of the limo. It's so very kind of the Mushes, but fortunately she's in retail where they earn the Big Bucks.

Friday, Plot will record his 'Choices' piece for KQED that he wrote about the choice Ducknik made long ago between cigarettes and Plottie, and how she plans to immediately start smoking again the minute he dies and/or she turns 80.

Friday afternoon, D.B., a friend The Great Plotnik has not seen for at least 40 years, is coming to town with his wife, to spend the weekend at the Great Plotnik World Headquarters and Meatball Kitchen. Saturday night they are driving up to Marin County to get together with the two other guys and one gal who made up the neighborhood crew when they all were in High School. None have seen each other since. After Plot went off to Berkeley, he has to admit he decided he was 'way too hip for that room, if you catch his drift. Now, he knows better.

God Bless the Internet. It will be a blast to see everyone, to meet their husband and wives, to catch up on 40 years of ignorance. In case it's awkward, Duck is taking care of things by making a pecan pie.

And then there's The Baby. Could happen anytime. Could get the call. Could be jumping in the car with the prepacked suitcase and a lot of coffee. Never know when.

You don't need all that much reflection to know birthdays are fine as long as you don't spend them alone, which pretty much sums up the human condition. Add in people you love, a guitar, a piano, a ukelele, a baglama, an accordion, a basketball, and little Maynardstasia waiting in the wings. Priceless.