Birthdays are the bestest

You might know this about me, but if you don't, hang around long enough and youll be able to figure out that I like holidays, all holidays. I really do. I must admit I even enjoy my own birthday. That may seem very narcissistic, but darnit, who doesn't like their birthday?

It kinda all began on Friday when my work buddies and I, per a tradition established for all of our birthdays, went out to lunch, opened gifts, started a birthday shrine and skipped outta work for an hour.

My folks took us to dinner at my new favorite restaurant where there was more gift opening, some canoli and cards. Our night concluded with the season finale of the first season of "Veronica Mars". What more could a girl ask for? Well, let me tell you. . .

And all the fun flowed over to yesterday (my actual birthday). Cynical and I jumped in the car for a little trek across the river. A marathon shopping trip resulted in summer clothes, yarn (of course), and a whole sundry of goodies. Apparently the apparel gods were smiling upon me as I had anticipated a disappointing day of clothes shopping, but in reality I came home all set for the summer. We ate a wonderful lunch, wasted time over iced coffee, perused book stores, sang with the radio, and drove along blissfully in the sunshine.

Then we came home and crashed. Lack of sleep the night before, lots of walking, trying on one too many pair of jeans and too many celebratory meals had worn us down.

Cynical baked me cupcakes, yummy, milk-chocolate-iced cupcakes. Intermingled Saturday were calls from my brothers, dear friends, beautiful cards and mysterious packages. However would I celebrate without those that I love and love me back. Thank you.

Today we celebrated Mother's Day with each of our moms, got some quality time with Princess M and managed to tackle all of the chores I had been putting off all week. The sweet smell of just mowed grass is being carried in on a cool spring breeze. The perfect ending to a wonderful weekend.