"Make sure you buy something nice for yourself."

My cellphone rang when I was walking in the front door of the apartment, the caller ID showing my mother's number. Blurg. I hesitated to answer once I saw Ms. K in the kitchen wearing nothing but an apron and a smile. Now this is what I call a birthday. Dinner was cooking -- pork tenderloin with apple chutney, brussels sprouts, and pureed sweet potato -- and Ms. K was the dessert.

I motioned that I regrettably needed to take the call before copping a quick feel.

"Hi, mom," I finally answered a little out of breath after walking up six flights of stairs. The elevator was out again.

"Hi, Rouge. Happy birthday." My father chimed in too and I could hear their cat meowing loudly in the background.

I was still putting down my bags and slipping off my coat as they asked how my birthday was going. How did it feel to be 30? What did I have planned for the evening?

I cast a side glance to the kitchen. "Ms. K is cooking dinner and we're going to have a low key night at home."

We talked some more. How's work? How's freelance? What do you want for Christmas? "We're tightening the belt, you know," my mom explained, her code for Don't Ask For Anything Too Extravagant During A World Recession. "Dad had to lay everyone off at work."

Oh, that's fantastic news to hear on one's birthday. Everyone at work means that Dad laid off my uncle and my brother.

"Make sure you buy something nice for yourself," she continued, referencing the $100 check she had sent on Saturday with my birthday card. "Do you know what you're going to get with the money?"

On the bedroom dresser was the double ended vibrating dildo I had just purchased from Babeland as a birthday present for myself.

"Yeah, Mom, I have something in mind."