I just had the nicest little birthday celebration.
Sister Gail, of course, pulled it together. I had said I wanted just a couple of friends, but then I got up in the spirit and invited more. I would have invited more than that, but it wasn't that kind of thing. It was kind of, "oh, hey - you're free on Monday? I'd love it if you made me drink something with you, too."
My friends are most excellent people. Which is different from "my friends are excellent people, mostly." I dig my people. I don't have as many as I used to, because life moves on and everyone gets busy. Or more selective. But I dig my people.
We had Bill and Margo, with whom I spend so much time dining and drinking I have nothing to report. Just trust that they're well. And excellent.
Teri and Andreas, who are off to Germany, the land of dry people and sweet wine. (Not a slur. Please. It'll be a great trip.)
Jan and Bill - Mexico. Wet people and dry beer. (Not a slur. Please. It's hot and sweaty for everyone in Mexico.)
Hilary and Wes - surgery. Funny people there, no alcohol. (Not a slur. Surgeons and other hospitalitites are often funny, but there's no bar service.)
Dave. Off to China. I don't even know how to glibly characterize the Chinese. (Slur intended.) Dave is excellence in the hording mass.
Gail. Selling her house and buying a condo. A most excellent sister.
Me. Birthday boy. Fortyfuckingfiveyearsold.
