(I promise this is the last time you'll hear about my birthday. Until next year.)
Occasionally, The Gorilla and I go big on birthdays. We don't exchange Christmas presents, Valentines and anniversaries are not usually celebrated with presents at our house, so birthdays are when we really shower affection on the individual. Not every year, but often. There have been some pretty epic summer parties. Including last weekend.
My sweet husband dreamt up a birthday luau for my 34th. He designed posters and t-shirts and bought every guest a Hawaiian shirt. He ordered coconut cups and grass skirts and shipped everything to the lake weeks ahead in preparation. He's a keeper.
We had already planned a fun weekend with friends visiting, so it was just the perfect occasion. Old friends and new friends and dancing and drinks made in a blender. Oh, and Wal-mart white sheet cake. Wal-mart white sheet cake was the only thing I requested for the whole night. I am obsessed with Wal-mart white sheet cake. I should write an ode. My snobbier friends at the party (I won't name names) looked down upon my insistence on Wal-mart white sheet cake, but after one bite they were hooked. Obviously. We had two cakes and both were devoured. If I could get married again, I would only serve Wal-mart white sheet cake.
Did I mention there was dancing? I got so excited about the cake I forgot. But watching my husband teach my daughter how to hula probably goes down as one of my favorite memories of life. I mean. We put Beyonce's "Single Ladies" on repeat, because it's one of Pigtail's favorite songs. I let her listen to it because it's teaching a life lesson.
What a night, what a birthday. Good thing we don't try to party top around here. Because how could we?
Impossible.
