Let them eat cake!

Today is my un-unbirthday. Thus far, it's been a delightful experience — I made a 3-layer coconut cake that turned out simply heavenly (if I do say so myself). I got a Hello Kitty note-card from Naomi with the sentiment "I hope you have a great hair day!" (Her gift to me? Super sexy texturizer for sexy, wavy, messy hair, and did I mention SEXY?) Mom splurged on a darling skirt from Anthropologie that is just begging for a sunshiney day and some brand new sandals.


Tonight ("No days more!"/"Three hours more!" to be exact) I'm seeing "Les Miserables" downtown with Mom and Dad — I can barely contain my excitement. But not before dining at Cafe Hollander, complete with a Belgian Framboise. And after the show? Potato skins and pitchers at O'Donoghue's in The Grove with two Dolans, two Pescis, and laughter enough to raise the roof. Post-O'D's? To Caitlin's new apartment for a slumber party — not to mention James McAvoy on the TV in a charming little flick, "Penelope." (Boy oh boy, can that fella kiss!)



I have to say, if only The Boyfriend wasn't across the Atlantic, this might be the best birthday since the proverbial sliced bread. I don't mean to brag, and I don't mean to jinx this wonderful day — but sometimes I think there's nothing wrong with shouting your joy from the rooftops. I'm sure that on some dreary Monday next January when I hear somebody chirping like a bird about how grand their life is, I will want nothing more than to rearrange their face. But let this be a reminder to my PMS-ing, dead-of-winter, "life sucks" self: It's okay to show the world your Happy — un-unbirthday or not.