But yesterday was a good day. Last year my birthday was completely ruined--through no fault of my own family who tried desperately to keep it on life support--so receiving nothing more than a pile of dog poo would have been a step in the right direction. In the afternoon, my husband stayed home with the boys and I went to see Julie & Julia with several women from the church. In my head I thought, Oh Meryl, on several occasions because that woman is just the quintessential actress, the embodiment of "in character", she's like the bread and butter all in one, the great...well, you get the idea. She's good. Really good. All the time. And, okay, so there was this one moment where Amy Adams was totally Giselle but the rest of the movie she was all Julie Powell. Maybe. I mean, I don't actually know Julie Powell personally--the woman boned a duck for goodness sake. But who knew that writing about boeuf bourguignon could earn you 53 comments on a blog (eventually many more, I'm sure) and an article in the The New York Times. I mean, I'll start writing about boeuf borguignon if that's what it takes.
Anyway, after the movie was over my family took me to dinner at Sweet Tomatoes (no giant tomato this time, folks. Although my son was peering around with wide eyes just waiting for it to jump out and kidnap him.) courtesy of a two for one coupon and a gift card (thanks Sabrina!). Back at home I opened a few presents and had cupcakes (thanks Holly!). It should be noted that, when my son eats a cupcake, he picks all the sprinkles off first. Then he eats the frosting off the top. But he doesn't lick it off. No. That would be uncivilized. Instead, he uses his thumb and his forefinger to form a sort of finger chopstick. Then he drops a teeny amount of frosting into his mouth and begins the process all over again. I'm sure that's how the French do it. It's probably in Julia Child's cookbook.
And that was that. A lovely birthday culminated in the watching of my son getting chocolate frosting all over his fingers. My heart was happy. It was many steps above dog poo, even. And you know what would make it even better? No. Not boeuf borguignon. 53 comments, that's what.