My birthday is not one of my favorite days, and as I get older, it becomes less and less so – a sort of annual memento mori! When I was in grade school, my mother, a serious party girl, tried several times to muster my enthusiasm for a birthday party, and never succeeded - but she forged ahead anyway. After the first two attempts, at which I spent most of the party in the bathroom throwing up, she abandoned the effort and my family went out to dinner at a nice restaurant. This was a great relief to me. I didn’t like other people’s birthday parties either, but I dreaded them less than my own. This was a matter of nerves, of course, but also, given that my mother was sort of an early healthy food devotee, the birthday parties were not just a shock to my shy sensibilities, but also were a shock to my stomach, being no doubt the first sugary gastronomic onslaught in months. This year, Rebecca was channeling my mom, and was all for a party. I whined, and so we went to my favorite restaurant instead. She made three cakes (to accommodate the various diets, and to include my favorite ginger cake,) and we had these afterward. I have to confess, that without my mother to safeguard my diet, I tolerated the cake and ice cream much better than I did in my youth.
|Tom, Rachael, Marigold, and Becca|
Marigold joined us for cake and ice cream, and I have to say that Tobias was not the best host. The less said about that, the better.
|My fabulous new purse!|
Rebecca was horrified when she saw my previous post, about the lovely purses and such that Peggy made, because she had made me a nice little bicycling purse, special for when I cycled to her house to knit with her. She worried that I wouldn’t need another purse, but this one has a totally different purpose. And of course, I love it both because it is lovable, but also because my darling girl made it.