They say it's my birthday...

Ann and I share a birthday week, and I love that she goes first. I admire her thorough enjoyment of birthdays; she inspires me to break out of my Febuary Grouchies and my general birthday-self-consciousness/malaise and have some fun.

And by the way: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ANN! I hope you got something in the mail; I'm not able to track that package cmpulsively and it's driving me nuts.

I go today. Here's what I intend to do:

First, G. and I are going to the Concord Museum. He'll only go to a museum on my birthday, so I must take advantage. They are having an exhibit called "A Splash of Blue", and also serving tea at tables set in blue and white. They'll also have a storyteller, but he's performing at the same time tea is served, and you and I both know my priorities.

I'm eager to see the pretty blue things and just indulge my visual sense.

And then, my parents and sister will visit, and we'll have dinner at the charming French restaurant across the street.

(Note that their URL says "floofiedog" at the end!) Gerard, the chef, prepares very traditional French dishes--nothing "fusion" or too fancy, just good French cooking. No towers of food, where escargot is stacked vertically on an asparagus mousse balancing on a single poached carrot with wasabi and two quail eggs or anything like that. I like and respect that about Gerard. Once he visited our table, and although he's lived in Massachusetts for over 20 years, I could only understand every third word for his charming French accent. We nodded and smiled and praised the food, and later it turned out that G. understood even less than I!

And then we'll have cake from the French bakery in Concord, which might be the best cake I've ever had.

I hope I get presents. I want the pretty packages, really. Shiny things.

I received some whimsical and charming cards in the mail yesterday. One was made from sheep poo! It's awesome!