Birthday Week!

Isn't is sad that as one gets older, one is expected not to make such a fuss over one's birthday? And one is expected to just let is pass without much fanfare except maybe a passing, "Oh, it is my birthday." And when one demands special treatment for one's birthday one is seen as a lunatic, to say nothing of demanding it for an entire week month.

Well, one can't always do what is expected, can one?

I think I'm about the luckiest person in the world because I live with Gretchen who happens to own the birthday the very day before my own. And so I am at liberty to suggest outrageous things to do all the while claiming, "But it's for Birthday Week!" and then in a confidential whisper, "It's what Gretchen wants to do." And I get away with doing whatever I want while appearing like the very soul of charitableness and long-suffering as I sacrifice my birthday for Gretchen's. It's quite alarming how much I enjoy this!

"You said what now?" Gretchen demands.

Birthday Week this year included:

A date with Lizzy!

Turkey sandwiches with mustard! 

(Have I ever mentioned my deep and undying love for this delicious yellow substance?)

A food processor which has been formally dubbed Sir Reginald Choppington III! (Thanks, parents!)

Riding around in an automobile! And making pig noises!

Dinner with the roommies where I accidentally elbowed our waiter in the crotch and then he "forgot" to bring me another Diet Coke!

Game night where we played my very favorite game and through which I discovered that all my friends are really smart and they don't let me win. Not even on my birthday.

A couple of my favorite guys cementing their place into my All-Time Favorite People Ever by giving me a giant box of butter for my birthday! More on that later, be assured,  because it is my belief that the gift of a giant box of butter deserves its own post. And who could disagree with that?

And what could a girl ask for more than this, I wonder?