First, apologies for being MIA. We've been super busy, hosting and boozin' and eating and turning years older. And when I wasn't doing those things, I was dealing with my body's adverse reaction to pollen. Booo.
So, up first, birthdays. Our good friends have birthdays on either side of mine, kind of a birthday sandwich, if you will. So Cassie, because she is an incredible friend, decided to make those birthdays feel special. She and Hugh drove down to our house on Friday afternoon, and brought with them food (an entire, delicious meal), decorations, and the most spectacular cake I've seen that wasn't on a tv show.
Balloons and ribbons and sparkly things!
And wine, of course.
And party poppers. I love party poppers. Mitch does not. He also hates balloons. Mitch is pretty much anti-birthday. Maybe he's a Jehovah's Witness and didn't tell anyone? He does escape on occasion and go door to door. It's all making sense now.
Then the Ships brought the two cutest girls on the planet, and then it was a party!
Mitch spent some time in his dirt spot.
And Iris melted hearts.
And then, while I held the pig-shaped cutting board while Cassie was cutting pancetta for our salad (yum!), she tried to cut my finger off. The good news is that it was just a minor cut. The great news is that it is on my middle finger, so it give me a really good excuse to flash that thing around.
And see these tulips in JMU colors? My wonderful (and colorblind) husband bought those for me. I knew I liked him for a reason (other than his dance moves).
And then came the big reveal: the cake. Cassie had forbidden me from looking at the cake until it was TIME, and I was obedient. I mean, she had made me Tyler Florence's most delicious lasagna in the universe, so who was I to be angry? Cut or no cut.
And then I ate the whole thing. Well, almost.
When I was younger I would make the biggest deal out of birthdays--both mine and other people's. But as I grow older I find that I care less and less about birthdays--both mine and other people's. I never expected anyone to make such a big deal out of my turning twenty-nine. But the fact that Cassie went all out, slaved over a hot stove, transported all of the food, decorated, and was so enthusiastic meant the world to me. It's a humbling experience to have other people doing so much, and taking the time to make a day so meaningful.
I'm starting year 29 off right, with spring break. Caitie and her daughter Phebe are here, and we're working on finding the perfect balance between doing fun stuff and sleeping. More on that later. I just hope that the next 51.5 weeks of my twenties will be as fun as the last few days have been, minus the pollen, of course.