Seems to me the first few birthdays are more for the parents than the children. What is the first birthday any of you actually remember? Mine was my fourth.

"Birthday" is the event that occurred to me too for this topic. I hesitated to post this story because it is a lot like my last one, but both events really happened and with hindsight it seems to me that enduring this one is probably what enabled me to brazen out the other one.

Drabble: commemorating an event

My grandmother had us stop for lunch at this new place she had heard about.

We were almost done with our sandwiches when suddenly a siren howled, whistles blew, lights flashed, and six singing clapping waiters marched up to our table and presented me with a small birthday cake topped with candles and sparklers.

I was stunned. Appalled. Mortified. Eleven.

My grandmother was delighted. She sang and clapped along through the whole performance, then turned to me with a huge smile and said, "I called ahead. Isn't it fun?"

What could I say? I lied. "It's great. Terrific. Thank you."

Raq, Jo's first birthday, she was sitting in her bouncing chair on a conference room table in OPEC's office in Geneva, sucking her dummy and glaring at a circle of men in turbans. Her second birthday, she was with me on a plane, relocating back to San Francisco from London.

dcp is right, the first few are strictly for the parents. And look at it this way: with the entire world to choose from, whatever traditions end up being Mallory's, they aint gonna be boring.

Commemoration (or however many M's there are)

At the end of days, we shall all appear before the infinite to show the tapestries we have made of our lives and to explain the colors and designs we chose.

I think some are going to be dismayed at how tarnished the glittering treasures they gathered appear in this venue. The wealth itself doesn't shine, but the purposes it went toward can glow. Honest charity and solid works gleam in all colors.

I'll never have wealth, but I'm satisfied that the weavings of honor and courage and faith I present will show richly enough against the glitter and will be judged worthy.

connie, that was simply beautiful.

Commemorating an event

For years I can’t help it—any time the song plays I smell you and I taste you and I want to touch you. It whips me right back to that night, to the madness, the hunger, and that song playing on MTV behind us, seemingly forever, with us too distracted to turn it off as it burnt itself into my memories.

It doesn’t work for me anymore. I hear the song and think of not wanting you; I think of no longer being the girl that thrilled to your touch.

I don’t miss it.

I need a new song.

DAMN, ita.

You just played my song.

So true, ita, so true.

After about two months of writing next to nothing, I seem to be getting back on track:

• Finished my essay on "Boobs," and the editor and her agent like it. There was unclear talk of whether "edits in the middle are OK," which I said OK to, but as I've not heard back, I'm forced to assume that they're relatively minor and being made on the other side. Of course, no one even knows if this book is really coming out.

• No word from Agent #1, who was in a rush to get the novel manuscript but hasn't been heard from since. (Shrugs shoulders.) Editor at Publisher #1 has the first 30 pages. Should here from him this week if he, too, doesn't disappear entirely.

• Got guidelines out to section editors for the next issue of The November 3rd Club.

• Resumed writing my column for GotPoetry.com after the inadvertant hiatus.

It feels like I should be able to rest now. Alas, it doesn't really work like that...

• New column up, after an inadvertant

Teppy! Topic?

Check it out, Victor. I'm betting on being one of the great innovators of all times by that standard, babe. All about the cravings.You should feel complimented; you bumped Dr. House, whom I find a quotable fictional human being.