Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Extending the Celebration

Yesterday when I got in to work, everyone from the department was suspiciously hanging out in or around my office. After I had settled in and put my things away, everyone surrounded my desk as the chair of the department brought in a chocolate and raspberry cake she'd made to celebrate my twenty-seventh. It would be my second cake in less than twenty-four hours. If that's not recipe for an excellent birthday, I don't know what is.

My father and his fiancee were in town all weekend long to celebrate my birthday, and we'd spent that time eating lobster and wandering the cobblestone streets of Portland, eating crab and hunting for bargains in Freeport, and, of course, taking the mandatory I'm in Front of the Big Boot picture at L.L. Bean. We had an official birthday dinner where we drank peach martinis and muddled Old Fashioneds and ate duck and prime rib and crab cakes. Then we came home and drank champagne and ate thick slices of coconut cake from a bakery that smelled like spun-sugar, even out in its parking lot.

I totally milked my day. Totally milked it, just like always, just like tradition. I got excited every time I went down the stairs to collect the cards from my mailbox, and I got excited every time there was a knock on my door--the mailman dropping off another package from New York, from Minnesota, from Wisconsin. I got excited each time I tore open the wrapping paper and found books and shirts about cow tipping and Spam singles and treats for Abbey. It was a good day. A very good day. And definitely better than last year, when I, in the first few weeks of my first semester as a full-timer, had to teach until 9:00 and then come home to an empty apartment--no cat, no boyfriend, no family, no friends--and open a bottle of champagne and cut into a slice of dry grocery store cake by myself. This birthday was an awful lot more festive than that, as you can imagine:

If some of you have been wondering all these years where I get that bizarre posing I do in pictures, I think the answer is now abundantly clear.


Casey Sween said...

Your dad is awesome. Just tell him to stop sending me those photos on my phone. It's getting creepy. Just kidding...or am I?

Jason said...

In the picture where he's holding Abbey, your father looks more than a little like Roger Sheffer.


Jess said...

Uh, ewwwww, Jason.

Jason said...

Hee hee!