Saturday, August 1, 2009

I went to a birthday party last week. A friend of mine turned one. Yes, she’s a friend of mine, but her parents are the ones that are most familiar with me.

She had the BEST birthday cake. I almost (almost) cannot wait to have another birthday so I can have the same kind.

A few birthday celebrations standout in my mind. Under 10 years old I had a Barbie cake.

My mother and Mamaw made a cake skirt for the doll. I really don’t remember, just saw the pictures.

For my twenty first birthday my dad took me out for my first “legal” drink at the El Presidente restaurant on the corner of Devonshire and Reseda Blvd.

The rest of the birthday was not so memorable—I just don’t remember it (and not because I drank too much). I think you should remember your 21st birthday, friends, partying, being the center of attention, something should stand out. But, alas the memory is shared with my dad. Upon reflection, not so bad I guess.

There was the birthday when I got a romance novel from my children and husband.

Being a book snob I was surprised they thought I would like a book covered with a Fabio impersonator in a bend-her-back embrace with a busty wench, but the things a mother thanks her children for …

Well, the kiddos insisted I look through the book and so I did. The pages were cut out to hold a ring box which held a pearl anniversary ring—a vintage ring I had lovingly admired at a darling little Niwot jewelry store. Mark had told me the ring had been purchased. I remember glaring at him as if to say, “You said the ring was sold.” As if reading my mind he said, “It did sell. I bought it.”

I love that ring, but I think I really, really love the memory of the delight on my children’s faces as they truly surprised me. Even Andrew kept the secret.


Anonymous said...

good times...I had forgotten all about the fabio book! love the new background btw. Pete