The only way we could have made John’s birthday more low-key was to ignore it. I wished him a happy day within 15 minutes of waking up, so give me credit for that. There was no discussion of the birthday meal, since it has become our custom to go to the restaurant that grandson Nathaniel worked in for two summers. John called to make sure they would be serving prime rib, his once-a-year favorite. We went to church and took naps, waiting for the place to open. Evidently it was birthday Sunday, because a woman at the next table was celebrating her 95th.
I took a photo of John and grandson David, because it wouldn’t be a proper celebration in our family without pictorial evidence.
For the foodies: David had Chicken Parmesan with pasta, and I chose Bourbon Pecan-Encrusted Chicken over mashed potatoes. I did not stab the potatoes with a knife; it came that way. John’s meal was exciting to the palette and visually boring.
At home we skipped having a candle on the cake, although we sang the birthday ditty as we put the dessert on the table. We had John’s standard angel cake with strawberries, his favorite since childhood.
David added blueberries to the top, and I was amused that it ended up looking like a silly face.
John is now officially 78 years old. However, at some point he began counting his age backward, so he is really 13 years old now. He teases that when he is two years old, the grandsons will have to wheel him about, like he pushed them in their strollers.
Mehrling Muse 