The Best Birthday-In Which Cake is a Verb

At this point in life I really had stopped caring very much about birthdays. I mean, really, it's just getting older, right? And for the past several years there hadn't been much to them, and that was just fine. Because who cares, really? It's just another day, another year. And cake? Who needs cake? That's the best defense to use when you know that the only cake you'll have is the one you buy yourself, which was the only way I knew to have a cake, or a birthday. Until now.

Because apparently the times they have changed, and I have entered a new realm in which birthdays, no matter what number is attached to them, are an important event to be noted, acknowledged and celebrated. And, most importantly, they are to be CAKED! I think I may have mentioned before that I have fallen in love with a man who cooks. Well he also bakes a mean cake. For the birthday, we had cheesecake. Cheesecakes plural in fact. One for the Y church folk on Sunday and one for me to take to work and share with the day job peeps on Monday. Lovely cheesecake. Just right, light, cheesy, just sweet enough. Two toppings....blackberries for those who absolutely felt they had to con themselves into thinking this was health food and caramel pecan for the rest of us. And today the soul sisters are having a little chocolate number with white frosting adorned with coconut. Three of the four of us have birthdays in a two week span....so R says not to cake this would just be wrong.

There was also a wonderful present. I got a Gerber Multi-tool from R to carry in my little black purse. It will, I am convinced make me pretty near invincible. So far I have used it to take the tea lights out of the holders after worship at Y church, tighten someones eyeglass frames, open beer, and have showed it off to a few (I am sure) envious people. I bought myself a new bike. I have yet to ride as the weather has been yucky, but I think I understand the workings of the 21 gears thanks to the patience of my sweet guy.

There were cards by both virtual and snail mail and greetings on Facebook (how cool!). There was a singing message on my phone and the wonderful handmade card from my seven-year old friend left on my door. There was dinner out at the Mexican restaurant where we had our first date (his surprise) and the movie UP.

It was, in short, just about the best birthday ever. I felt loved and cherished, important and cared for. If all birthdays are like this, they might make it worth getting older!