Or milestone, whatever.
I’ve been in denial for the better part of the year over the fact that I’m celebrating a rather significant birthday on Tuesday. I cannot even type the numbers. I’ll give you a hint, though. The AARP has stepped up their campaign and are sending me weekly invitations to join.
Which up until now I’ve handled by lighting them on fire and running over the remains with the van.
The last milestone birthday I acknowledged, 10 years ago, was not a big deal. This one has really been a bitter antacid to swallow.
I let it be known to my family that my only desire to celebrate, and I use that term loosely, is to continue the tradition of eating every meal out on my actually day of birth.
My SIL, Trish, would have none of that, and planned a girls only birthday party for Sunday. It was to be a surprise, until a certain 10 year old caught wind of it and accidentally spilled the geritol beans.
Because Fiddledaddy was working out of town on Sunday, my children were in attendance with me, along with my 5 sweet sisters-in-law, 5 nieces, my mother-in-law, and one nephew thrown in for sport.
Much food was involved. As was wine, games, laughter, and a cake which featured Oreos. These are my people.
After much forethought, Trish decided that the cake need only hold one candle. Considering that it was an ice cream cake, that was a good call. And what with the cost of candles, and all. So, fortunately there was no loss of life or property on account of the number of candles it would have taken to display my actual age and the ensuing inferno that might have followed.
So, instead of counting candles, I will choose to count my many blessings. Thank you Trish, and all of my sweet family for making me feel so very special today.