In our family, birthdays do not last a mere 24 hours. John usually buys me a gift sometime in the summer, while we are on vacation (he adores museum and hotel galleries and gift shops). His intention is to save it for birthday or Christmas, but once he gets it home, he can't stand it. He sets the wrapped package out where I can see it, then taunts me daily with "Aren't you curious? Don't you want to open it now?", until I finally cave. A big box from San Diego arrived at the beginning of September, and I opened up these gorgeous art glass flowers about a week later. A beautiful neck scarf in the exact blueish-greyish-greenish shade as my eyes, hand-knitted by my darling daughter, arrived about a week before the big day.
Next there was the pre-birthday dinner at Mandola Winery, with John, Nicki and Dale. Then there was the artist's date in Austin that I treated myself to on the actual day, along with telephone serenades from everyone in the family. Last but not least, there was my tamale birthday cake at Cafe Milagro, arranged by Cheryl and Deb the weekend following my birthday, after an exhausting day at the International Quilt Festival in Houston.
Slow Food, and Slow Birthdays. They're a good thing.
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