~:: Revels ::~

We always start the day with signs.  Specifically this sign (above).  I don’t remember when we started the signs – could have been twenty five years ago.  And this was the first one I ever did, this design, I mean: two hills with a happy sun rising over them.  Hills studded with pine trees and plains scattered with – in the beginning, deer, but in the last ten years, horses.  Specific horses.  And the words, “Good Morning (fill in the black) year old!”  It’s the first sign each of my kids saw almost every birthday of their little lives.  And it was the first sign I saw on my birthday this year.  Drawn by one of those very children.  Age most thoughtfully left off.  I couldn’t stop looking at it.

Another fun sign.  We fill the house with them.  The sign on the top is old – actually, it was for M or Chaz.  Also traditional – a list of glorious attributes.  The bottom sign is a nod to the sixties, a little Peter Maxish.  Also by Chaz.

And two balloons at the table.  There was a place setting and presents all wrapped in lovely paper, too.  But I was too happy to remember to take pictures of it all.  I had told them that I wanted both French Silk Pie and Triple chocolate layer cake on my big day (having spent the last two months faithfully carb counting).  And rainbow cake, too.  Just making suggestions.  But they took me at my hopeful word.  And at breakfast, there was a box conveniently placed right beside my plate.  So before the eggs, I feasted on very small piece of French Silk Pie.  Hot-cha.

All I really wanted for my birthday was surprise and delight.  In other words, not to have to decide on anything – but to be delighted by plans made for me. Little family jaunts. Special food.  But here, they surprised me with those presents.  And the pie had been picked up and delivered by Chaz at six in the morning – special order on her day off.

A single yellow rose, in hope for sunshine.  Cheeses from C and L.  A tiny bowl from G.  The Moon princess in book and wood sculpture from Chaz (found at the Japan fest).  Business cards drawn, designed and printed for me by M’s Laura. Long distance treats from M, including music.  The pineapple had reminded Chaz of a certain magical birthday Luau we had for Gin once, so she snagged a bunch of them. In case we should have to throw another luau.  Soon.

And this guy.  Could I hope that you remember him?  The light’s a whole lot better here.  Peter So Happy’s wondrous stone deer.  The one I fell in love with in Santa Fe.  The one G immediately and very secretly called Gin about.  And suddenly – it turned up here.  In a box.  With a bow and everything.  I LOVE this thing.  But even better, I love that I was listened to, gone out of the way for, spent-against better judgement for, fibbed to and totally surprised by something I really love.

They took me out for lunch, and Scooter scored enough real food to get dessert.  Then the kids went down for naps and

G took me riding HORSES!!  First time since autumn.  We were pretty perky on the trail, Zi and I.  But G and Dustin were perfect gentlemen.  I love this shiny little red horse.

After that, the kids came over for triple chocolate cake.

Then, on Sunday, my brother fibbed and said he needed us to come up and have a serious talk.  “But – ” I said, wanting nothing more than an evening with my kids.   “It’s important,” he said.  And I wondered if it might be something about our mom.  So we drove off to his house after church.

And he opened his door – wearing this tiny, silly party hat.  There were shiny birthday decorations having from the lights.  And who should be hiding in the kitchen of that house but all these kids who belong to us.

Chaz was the hat dispenser.

A fine dinner provided by the elegant and wonderful Lorena, aided by nephews – who also very kindly wore hats.

I think the hats were dignified, don’t you?  My brother, now hatless, the triathlon monster.

Andy.  And the hat’s still on!  Darling girls.  I’m just sorry there are no pictures of MY party hat.

Finally, here is Chaz, invoking the deer-in-the-headlights look that I’m sure will plague Scooter every time he gets this close to a pair of luscious lips over the next twenty years.

And that’s the end of the story.   One perfect, fabulous, wonderful birthday fete.

Ta-DAAAA!!