Turning 27

Remember how fantastic birthday cakes were when you were little? The more glitz and toys and color involved the better. The icing was sugary, the cake was moist, and you always wanted the corner piece with the big flower. To this day, the smell of candles being blown out creates a Pavlovian response in me and I start salivating for birthday cake. In my mind, the perfect cake will always be the Cookie Monster one my mom made when I was little. It was bright blue and three-dimensional and I loved every bit of it. I made my mom dig through some pictures to find one of the cake:

In this picture I seem to be a little preoccupied with a present. And I may have recently spilled fruit punch all over the table. And am I eating a giant corn chip, too? Or is that a cookie of some kind? When did my mom wear her watch on the outside of her sleeve?

We had our holiday lunch today (delayed from the transit strike), and between the impending birthday celebrations tonight and the glass of wine with lunch, I’m having trouble concentrating on work. Although if you know me in real life, you may know that what I’m working on is a strange, strange work thing to have to do. It involves me having to be funny. Which is hard to do when it is a task!

Impending birthday celebrations involve going to dinner and a gathering at a tiki bar. Let it be known: I’m a sucker for a drink with an umbrella. Or a little plastic monkey. Umbrellas and little plastic monkeys make everything more fun. I’m also scoring TWO out-of-town guests for the festivities, so lucky me. I count that among my gifts, which so far include a pizza stone, a pizza peel, a silicone whisk, and an iron skillet. I guess it’s a cooking kind of birthday, more lucky me.

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