Party On My Porch

Yesterday was my birthday. I haven't decided yet if I'm going to tell you how old I am, but I can tell you that this particular birthday made me feel O-L-D.

David invited all of my Tiny Town friends over for a little celebration. He put on a nice spread, no?

Ok, fine. I was involved in making the table look pretty. But he's totally responsible for ordering that yummy cake from the Tiny Town Bistro.

Several of my friends brought flowers, usually picked from their own gardens, which is probably one of my favorite things in the world. A bouquet, picked and arranged from one's currently-blooming flowers, is just so... honest and simple and pretty to me. LOVE.

Although my little rugrats were hanging around for the (beginning, at least, of the) party, everyone else left their kids home with their husbands, and came over for cake and wine after dinner.

Here's my girls, before they got booted back into the house, for the bothersome offense of "hanging over the cake". Those were my exact words, I believe.

(But hey, it's my birthday, and if I don't want three little girls breathing all over and poking my cake, that's my right, right?)

They were, however, allowed to eat a piece of cake. IN THE HOUSE. Actually, as I was falling asleep last night, I felt bad for how I treated them. Shooing them away from the party like they were untouchables or something was not my most proud birthday moment.

On the other hand, BACK AWAY FROM MY CAKE, LADIES.

Anyway, it was a good party. As in: 11 bottles of wine good. As in: that's how much this group consumed throughout the evening.

Well, actually, couple more ladies came after this photo was taken. By then, I was shitfaced tipsy enough that I didn't think to take another photo of the whole group.

David had requested on the invite "no gifts" but many of the ladies brought wine. I thought the supply we had on hand was plenty- about 4 bottles, if I remember right- but boy was I wrong. Wine toting friends, FTW!

But seriously, it was very sweet of my husband to plan this. I'm going to have to think of something equally satisfying for him, for his next birthday.

(11 bottles of wine!)

P.S. I'm 35. Thirty five. Which is closer to 40 than I'd like. Which makes me feel like AAEEEIIII I'm old. Which is unusual, since birthdays (or my age) usually don't bother me at all.