Richard called me this morning to wish me a happy birthday, and to tell me that he was going to stay in Stratford-Upon-Avon another day, resulting in him only getting to spend one day in London. I think he was looking for pity; unfortunately he didn’t get it because the reasons for his staying (as you’ve already determined if you followed that link) were based solely around the fact that he’s getting the unique opportunity to see Shakespeare performed by the Royal Shakespeare Company. Luckily, everyone I’ve told about this agrees that he deserves no pity. Poor man. Mmm hmm.

But it was still a lovely way to wake up – a phone call from the man I love – and a reminder that he’ll be coming home in less than a week (I’m very much looking forward to Sunday for that very reason!). He’d sent me a hand-knit wool sweater from the Aran Islands in Ireland so now I have yet another reason (aside from the rather obvious one of the simple fact that I truly despise this hot weather) to wish for winter to come early this year.

Gifts have trickled in throughout the day – wonderfully lovely and thoughtful gifts – accompanied by emails, e-cards, phone calls, and wishes in person. In amusingly typical fashion for this project, my coworkers very sweetly bought me a birthday cake, and then we had to go scrounging for something with which to cut it. I doled out slivers of cake on an assortment of plates, napkins, and anything else we could find on which to put it. The development team did *not* sing the birthday song for me this time – a fact which I am particularly grateful for because, while they’re the nicest bunch of guys I’ve had the opportunity to work with, singing is simply not their forte, and as we’ve been on this project now for a year and a half, I’ve winced my way through that song more than a few times.

D and I made plans to meet for our usual birthday meal this Saturday. She and I share the same month for our birthdays, and years ago, we gave up trying to second guess what the other wanted. At first, we would simply go out together and buy something for ourselves at the same time…that eventually dissolved into simply meeting for lunch or dinner and having a fun time out. We’ve been the best of friends for about 13 years now, close enough to the point where we refer to each other’s mothers as ‘mom’, and finish each other sentences, but birthdays have always managed to confound us. Our tastes (aside from the unabiding addiction to all things feline) have always been undeniably different, and so it was with mutual relief that we finally hit upon the dinner idea.

The day ended beautifully – a birthday dinner with most of my family. My little nearly-three-year-old nephew was quite excited about the entire concept of birthday cake and presents, and kept chattering about it all through the meal. I asked him to help me unwrap – more for self-preservation and amusement than because I needed any help – and he happily tore paper and pulled ribbons when I asked him to. He wasn’t much impressed by the gifts I received, but then adults don’t often get stuff that’s all that exciting to three-year-olds. I offered to let him help me blow out the candles as well, but he told me ‘no’ quite soberly, insisting that I had to do it alone.