Birthday Belle

I made my debut in 1978, the same year that the TV show Dallas first aired, the Simon toy became all the rage, and the Bee Gees album Saturday Night Fever was #1. My parents were getting ready to begin a very expensive adventure with their first child, a baby girl with a head full of wild, dark hair. At six pounds, seven ounces and twenty-one inches long, the doctors assured my Mom and Dad I was going to be tall and thin. Thanks for your optimism, but since I am a statuesque 5'4 and have been on a diet since the ripe old age of six, not so much.

My birthday was Tuesday, and to say I have milked it for all it's worth is not an understatement. As much as I love a holiday, a birthday is your own personal holiday, and I like to prolong that as much as possible. I typically celebrate birthday week (I tried for birthday month, but there was so much eye rolling and mockery from everyone that I dialed it back down...a bit), but this year I've managed to get in two full weeks of celebrating.

The festivities kicked off Easter weekend with a home cooked meal of my very favorite foods, followed by birthday cake. If you have never been to Junior's and you are not currently in New York City, I have good news for you: Junior's will ship you the most awesome cake you have ever put in your mouth and you can see what heaven tastes like for yourself. This year, Mom got a chocolate/white chocolate mousse confection shaped like an Easter egg. And she bought me a print of a bichon frise, a.k.a. the king of the castle around here, to hang in my den. On a scale of one to ten: perfection.

The next weekend, we spent a gorgeous Saturday on the patio of a neighborhood restaurant enjoying Bloody Marys, a fantastic lunch, awesome friends, and of course, celebrating moi. I got to wear a new top (although the look may have been slightly marred by my Target sunglasses) and I laughed so much my face hurt. Second celebration: success.

 

The whole next week brought a bevy of gifts, all through the mail. For me, this is the perfect storm. I adore getting mail and I don't exactly have an aversion to getting presents, so every package that arrived brought pure, unadulterated birthday bliss.

 

Which brings us to that glorious ninth day of April: my real, actual day of birth. Bring. It. On. I strategically planned my day so as not to do anything I didn't want to do, but then I got all magnanimous and exercised (ugh) and vacuumed (double ugh). A few of you were sweet enough to call, and a zillion folks sent some Facebook love (bonus points if you threw in a compliment to accompany your birthday well wish).

Clint came home a little early--a rarity that truly signifies a special occasion--bearing a gift bag the size of vending machine. Inside, I found a dozen packages of Peeps (I confess that I hoard them and now I've got him in on the act), a Walking Dead t-shirt (the perfect way to combine my love of a zombie apocalypse with my love of t-shirts) and, drum roll please: two tickets to a Dave Matthews Band concert in July. I was ecstatic, since seeing DMB in concert is on my bucket list. Incidentally, that was the only thing I have put on my bucket list, which is probably an indication that I live a sheltered life, and should not be considered a sign that I will be ready to die after said concert. I need to add some drops to that bucket. And, as you will see in the pictures, my "card" was also a tiara that crowned me Birthday Princess. Brilliant.

 

I was wined and dined at one of my favorite restaurants and then home to sample a selection of gourmet cupcakes. I may or may not have run into one of my least favorite people on the planet while we were at dinner, but I was having a decent hair day and wearing a cute outfit, so ain't nothing gonnna breaka my stride. Onward and upward. Thirty-five is the new fabulous, so eat your heart out, oh-so-shallow nemesis.

Maybe I'm still on a sugar high, but the rest of this week is still up for grabs, and I'm thinking that if I play my (birthday) cards right, I can work this birthday thing right through the weekend. Light the candles and bring out the cake! And I can still wear the birthday tiara from time to time, too, yes?