Incredibly, another birthday has come and gone. Didn't I just do that a few weeks ago?
I'm still just like a little kid about birthdays-- I really do love to do it up. We had a little amateur mehndi session on Friday night, then rose early for Shabbat services where MonkeyBoy led one of the psalms and The Dark Lord and I both chanted Torah. Beautifully, if I can boast. I was only half as nervous as when I read at his bar mitzvah so I am making progress.
We had a lovely lunch out and then zipped home to prepare for My Big Fat Birthday Dance Party. The Spouse and I have long tossed about the idea of a dance party and finally decided that the time had come. Apart from a rather dramatic and sticky episode involving the fizzy beverages, the house went from chaos to charming rather smoothly.
We moved furniture, rolled up the rugs and turned the dining room into a perfect little dance hall. I had put together an upbeat and eclectic playlist which came under scrutiny at the last minute and was then infused with a liberal sprinkling of 80's pop hits because The Spouse informed me that there weren't enough songs in English. So we had David Bowie and The Talking Heads mixed in along with songs in Spanish, Russian, Hindi, and French. And it worked! It took a little effort to get people dancing, but once they started there was no stopping. I wonder how many times we looked at each other, breathless and sweaty and said "What a great idea!".
We took breaks on the patio, drank tasty handcrafted beer, and gobbled all kinds of snacks (brought mostly by my generous friends) and had a blast. The kids ran wild, fueled by root beer and cupcakes, and seemed to enjoy themselves as well.
I even got presents! (I told you I was like a little kid about birthdays)--my kids bought me a beautiful plant I'd been eyeing for a while and there were flowers galore and a groovy bag from my sister, some lovely art paper, handmade soap and, notably, a carton of eggs from this lady. Have you ever gotten multicolored eggs for your birthday? Pretty cool!
And then there's my husband, the guy with perfect taste and an excellent memory when it really counts. Not that he can remember where he put his just-poured mug of coffee, but he remembered a swing through a gallery a month ago when I gazed longingly at this:It's a striking, one-of-a-kind bracelet made of antique paper sandwiched between tiny panes of glass. And whenever I wear it, I am sure to think of a balmy summer night when friends came to dance with me until the wee hours of the morning. If any of you are reading this, thanks for dancing with me!