My Mom made birthday cake for dinner last night. I can’t remember the last time we actually had cake — usually, birthday dinners are just a nice, home-cooked meal, and then my parents force my sister and I to scour the giant bookcase for our well hidden birthday presents.
Last night was a little different, as I found my gift from my parents very easily — Ebert’s Top 100 films, the sequel; as well as a gift card to Barnes & Noble. My sister surprised me with the first volume of Ebert’s book. It was scary for most of the films in the second book I’d never seen, while many of the films in the first I have. I should probably expand my cinematic appetite.
I saw my sister for the first time since my Dad’s birthday surprise at the O’s game. She was hired by the MoCo school system, and will be teaching at the school next to the private Catholic school we both attended as young’uns (me until the 6th grade, she the 3rd). She’s got an apartment in Bethesda with two roomates, and somehow, I got roped into taking her to IKEA on Tuesday. I think she wants me to buy her a bookcase but I’m going to try to get her off my case with a lamp. (NOT - $7.99). I overheard some budget discussions she was having with our parents. To Epiph and Claude and any other teachers who read this blog: you guys & gals don’t make near enough, and that’s a damn shame.
My dad made his scratch-made mac and cheese. As always, it was wonderfully delicious, and I have a little tin of it in my fridge. Between the four of us, we devoured essentially the entire pan. It was really really good, and I hadn’t had it since my folks came up here a few years ago to watch Pirates of the Caribbean. I had my heart set on some apple betty for desert, but alas …
When the cake was brought out and the candles lit, I completely forgot to wait until after “Happy Birthday” had been sung to blow them out. My Mom was all: “…!” Like I said, we don’t do cakes much, so I can be forgiven for this … besides, it all can be blamed on my Aunt Anne, who for my second birthday, tried to demonstrate to me how the candles should’ve been blown out … and then wound up blowing them out herself, much to her chagrin and my apparent delight (candles? who cares? I want cake!).