Did I say something yesterday about having deep and melancholic thoughts about my birthday?
By the way, it’s tomorrow, and I know you are all ready for it to be over so you won’t be subjected to my narcissism any longer.
Those thoughts have been banished after my very fun night last night. I was in a funk last week and Kellie called and asked if I had made birthday plans yet and, of course, I had no plans because HELLO, CHRISTMAS EVE BIRTHDAY? ANYONE WANT TO LEAVE THEIR FAMILY FESTIVITIES AND GO TO ONE MORE PARTY? Kellie informed me that her schedule had freed up and she wanted to take me out to dinner to celebrate, and I jumped at the chance.
She showed up around 6 last night, said “hi” and “bye” to Mr. CPQ (that was the first time they had met – weird, huh?) and off we went. Reservations weren’t until 7:30, so we stopped for a quick drink before heading over to the restaurant. Kel didn’t waste any time totally throwing me under the bus by telling the server I was turning 40.
He didn’t even have a chance to say, “Good evening.” She just blurted it right out. Hmpphhhh….I’m totally going to pretend I saw admiration in his eyes instead of sympathy.
Kel said she was taking me to Winston’s for dinner and I was very excited about that because they have good Creme Brulee, and I think we can all agree that it speaks volumes that I know and can opine on every restaurant’s version of creme brulee. It’s a sickness, I tell you, a SICKNESS that I cannot pass up creme brulee if it’s on the menu.
It’s my absolute favorite dessert and I never make it at home because I’m deathly afraid of the blow torch. Actually, let me rephrase that. I’m not personally afraid of it. I’m afraid of the ramifications of keeping a weapon of mass destruction in close proximity to my ten year old terrorists.
I started to get an inkling that something might be up when we arrived at the restaurant and Kel wanted to sit in the freezing cold car and tell me some random high school story that had NOTHING to do with creme brulee, and those suspicions were confirmed when I walked into the back room and there, at the table, were four of my precious friends, appropriately dressed in mourning clothes, waiting for me.
It was a party.
Let’s not speak of my double chin or my flyaway hair.
And what appears to be gray in my hair is just reflecting light from the blazing candles.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
Can you see the depths of my joy as I sat at the table with my people, laughing, sharing stories, eating shrimp and grits, and opening presents (yes, there was loot!)?
It was a great way to end my thirties – surrounded by friends, smiling broadly, laughing loudly.
And eating creme brulee.
Have a nice day.
P.S. Thank you, Kellie, for pulling this all together. You are an amazingly thoughtful friend.