It’s hard to write here everyday. It really is. That’s why it’s such a great Lenten sacrifice. And it works on a lot of levels. I have to write some sort of content here, and if you are subscribed, you have to read it. Painful all around! Blogging FTW!
Today is G’s birthday. She is 44. I love the double number birthdays, don’t you?
Forty-four is cool. I wish I were forty-four. She is a splendid specimen of 44 too: healthy, full of vitality, glowing, growing in wisdom and depth, and also in graciousness and charm and goofiness.
Grace and goofiness. Tell me that is not THE perfect combination of attributes for a forty-four year old?
This is the first time since I’ve known her that she has been home for her birthday. She is usually down south with her team, who takes her to Hooters and has buxom women shake their maracas in her face while singing Happy Birthday to a
It is a hard act to follow, I must say. I did okay in the cupcake department but sadly, I do not have Hooter-style maracas.
She wanted lasagne for dinner, and I was glad to oblige. Now I need to go downstairs and light the cupcakes and help her open some gifts.
Happy Birthday G!
And to G’s mother: “Well DONE!!” Very well done!