Decent Birthday Quotes

Jacob remembered it distinctly because it was his twenty-second birthday, and he was annoyed at being awakened by his uncle at 1:17 in the morning. But Avi had no time to be sentimental. He ordered Jacob to hightail it with him through a bone-chilling winter night to get to some safe house they’d never been to before and make it there by the top of the hour. Jacob had been hoping to sleep in a little and maybe eat a half-decent meal before sitting down to plan the sabotage of a radio tower near Antwerp, an operation scheduled for the coming weekend. But none of that was to be.

Locally, you should be able to find decent Medjool dates in Middle Eastern grocery stores and many natural foods markets, but for the too-moist-to-be-sold-commercially varieties, you’ll probably have to shop online. I have tried dates from most of the major online retailers and always go back to ordering from the Date People, a small farm in California. I am averse to commercial endorsements, but I’ve never tasted consistently better dates from any other source (although Black Sphinx dates from Phoenix come close!). Date People’s annual harvest comes in around my birthday in October, and I always splurge as a present to myself and get a big box to put in our freezer.

I could finally get back to my annual birthday tradition of pretending it was any other day. Unlike many women my age, I didn’t hit the club or go to dinner with my bestie. Hell, I didn’t even have a bestie. Instead, I did one of the most cathartic things I could think of, aside from kicking Tamir’s ass at the gym. I cleaned my guns—it was what any halfway decent mafia princess would do.

That was . . . awkward.” Jaxon pointing out the obvious had me itching to punch him in the face. “Fuck off.” I wasn’t in the mood. “The speech was halfway decent, and the emotion was there, but . . .” “Are you still here?” My only hope was that he'd leave me alone if I was hostile enough. “You have this incredible woman—that it’s pretty clear you’re in love with—and on her birthday, you give her a chaste kiss on the cheek in front of all these people?” “If you have a point, I suggest you get there faster.” My free fist clenched by my side. “I’m not in your relationship, and even my head is swimming from the mixed signals you’re sending.” “Who made you head of the marriage police? Not everyone feels comfortable sucking face in public. Did you ever think of that?” He wasn’t buying it. “Sure. That’s why Amy looked like she wanted to cry.” “You’re not doing yourself any favors putting it off.

The sun had slipped past noon, and a slice of heat fell through the tree-house window, firing Laurel's inner eyelids cherry cola. She sat up but made no further move to leave her hiding spot. It was a decent threat- Laurel's weakness for her mother's Victoria sponge was legendary- but an idle one. Laurel knew very well that the cake knife lay forgotten on the kitchen table, missed amid the earlier chaos as the family gathered picnic baskets, rugs, fizzy lemonade, swimming towels, and the new transistor, and burst, stream-bound, from the house. She knew well because when she'd doubled back under the guise of hide-and-seek and sneaked inside the cool, dim house to fetch the package, she'd seen the knife sitting by the fruit bowl, red bow tied around its handle. The knife was a tradition- it had cut every birthday cake, every Christmas cake, every Somebody-Needs-Cheering-Up cake in the Nicolson family's history- and their mother was a stickler for tradition.

Beneath a common banner of classically liberal ideals, countless tastes and traditions may mingle and mutate into ever new and exciting flavors. Thus would be born a homeland where the Sufi dances with the Breslover round the neon jungle of Times Square, where the Baptist of Alabama nods along to the merry melodies of Klezmer, where the secular humanist combs the Christian gospels and poems of Rumi for their many pearls of wisdom, where the Guatemalan college student learns to read Marx and Luxemburg in their original German, where the Russian refugee freely markets her own art painted in the style of Van Gogh and Monet, where the Italian chef tosses up a Lambi stew for his Haitian wife’s birthday while the operas of Verdi and Puccini play on his radio, where two brothers in exile share the wine of the Galilee and Golan while listening to the oud music of Nablus and Nazareth, where the Buddhist and the stoner hike through redwood trails and swap thoughts of life and death beneath a star-spangled sky. In this America, only the polyglot sets the lingua franca, the bully pulpit yields to the poets café, decent discourse finds favor over any cocksure shouting match, no library is so uniform as to betray to a tee its owner’s beliefs, no citizen is so selfish as to live for only themself nor so weak of will as to live only for others, and such a land—as yet a dream deferred, but still a dream we may seize—such a land would truly be worthy of you and me.

James settled down to the film. He got a shock when he noticed Nicole and Junior had their arms around each other and an even bigger one a minute later when they started snogging. They were all over each other. Nicole’s leg was up in the air and James kept getting kicked. He got up and moved down two seats so he was sitting on the opposite side of April, away from any flailing limbs. “They’re getting on well,” April grinned. She grinned for a long time. James watched half a minute of the film and she was still grinning at him. He realized the girls had planned an ambush. Nicole already knew Junior fancied her because he’d asked her out before. James felt like he’d been hooked on a line and reeled in, but he checked April out and realized that as traps go, it wasn’t a bad one. April was decent-looking, with long brown hair and fit legs. James slid his hand under the armrest and put it on top of April’s. She twisted in her seat, so she could rest her head on James’s shoulder. James turned around, breathed April’s smell and kissed her on the cheek while she grabbed a few of his Maltesers. They stayed that way for a couple of minutes, until April moved away and blew chocolate breath over him. “So,” she whispered. “Are you gonna snog me or what?” James figured, “What the hell, it’s my birthday.” They snogged for ten minutes, breaking up when the movie got near the end and turned into a big car chase and punch-up that was actually worth watching.

Solarium may be a birthday horoscope. Astro magic Solaris also lies within the indisputable fact that an individual, having turned to an astrologer beforehand, can simulate his next year by setting a task for an astrologer and voicing a goal, as an example, to seek out a decent job, achieve success in an exceedingly career or business, improve his financial well-being, wed, buy a house, give birth to a baby, improve your health or learn where it’s better to be at the instant of your birthday so that everything within the family is safe. The astrologer will select options and tell you whether there’s a chance to remain or it’s better to go away, and if you allow, then where.