The big 4-6

OK, so today is my birthday. 7/11, just like the mini mart. 7-11, like the lucky numbers in some games. 7/11, like my uncle, two of my friends, and John Quincy Adams. It's a popular day, I guess.

The kids celebrated my birthday a day early, with an Asian themed dinner of stuffed mushrooms (YUM!), Caesar salad (I'm sure he owned some property somewhere in Asia, right?), shish kabobs, fried rice, and fried red tomatoes. Oh, and carrot cake, which is my favorite. They even made virgin daiquiris and had sparkling grape juice. Those are some kinda kids, I'll tell you.

And the food was good. Thomas evicted himself from the kitchen, after professing that the kabobs would be awful, but I liked them. He didn't do half bad for a rookie -- I've never made shish kabobs either -- except that he put regular charcoal in our gas grill. Sure am glad he didn't blow himself up. Oye. Live and learn is better than live and burn, I always say.

No arguing over dishes either, cause hubby said he'd do them. Of course, he got doing other things, including touching up the kitchen paint, and I did the dishes, but I don't mind. As I've gotten older (and I AM older, today), I find doing dishes to be therapeutic. It's great to clean the kitchen, because there's a purpose to it, a beginning and an end.

So now, my kitchen is clean, everyone's got a full belly, and I'm quietly reflecting this evening, on the fact that almost 46 years ago, my parents welcomed their fifth -- a 10 pound 4 1/2 ounce ball of fire, complete with red hair, and called her Lisa. Contemplate the time of your birth sometime, and the fact that you are here at all. It's pretty amazing, really.

Oh, there I go getting deep and all, but I guess it's cause we're heading to West Virginia tomorrow, to spend an overnighter with Dan's family, celebrating a 50th anniversary for his aunt and uncle, so I'm gonna chill and enjoy myself. Hillbilly birthday, oh yeah! Good times. And if I wasn't in my 40s, with a waistline to match, I'd be pickin' up this slammin' 40s sundress, from Julie at Damn Good Vintage. Cause today, I'm thinking it's a damn good thing I wasn't a boy.