Growing up I like to think I had slightly epic birthdays. There was the year of the cross-cultural Hawaiian/Hispanic party in which the front lawn was transformed into thirty children wearing both hula skirts and sombreros. Mom and Dad?! What were you thinking?! Or the year my friend Hannah and I drove three hours to go ice skating and have a sleep over with my Grandma. Ice skating and grandmas? They were all the rage in third grade (note: Grandmas will always be all the rage). Orrr the year I started middle school (and then turned eleven) and two girls punched - yes, punched - each other at my dress-up-and-play-with-make-up party. Oh.The.Drama my pre-teen years presented. So there really was no doubt in my mind that this year my birthday would once again be of epic proportions. While yesterday was my actual birth date, the day was spent driving fifteen hours from Southern California to Central Oregon. Today, however, my parents and I sat on the porch, watched the sun set behind the mountains, and played with Conway in the back yard (he’ll be staying in Oregon while I travel to Hawaii next week). My super wonderful dad grilled a sinfully delicious salmon (of which he caught himself on Saturday), as well as a few potatoes and fresh tomatoes I helped him pick from the garden earlier this afternoon. Sadly, neither hula skirts nor sombreros made an appearance at this year's event, but even sans pinatas and the limbo my evening dinner made me thankful for another year in this sweet life I have.
I may be biased, but growing up my mom was akin to a live-in Sylvia Weinstock - West Coast style. When asked what I wanted for my birthday my answer was simple, a cake. After three days of carrot caking from scratch, this is the form my birthday present took. I like to think of it as six layers of cream cheese frosting heaven. Yum.
I apologize for the recent delay in blogging but I’m happy to say I am now nestled into my cozy Central Oregon room for the next few weeks of work and weddings. And me? Well, I’m ready to round-house kick this blogging train in the behind. Er, caboose?...
You get it.
Happy Monday, Michelle