The 7th is my birthday. My family got together today for my birthday dinner. My mother who is an excellent cook makes whatever you request for your birthday dinner, and desert. It's been this way as long as I can remember. On the way to my parent's house my mom called me.
me: "Hi Mom, I'm on my way. I had to get gas."
Mom: "Oh, I thought maybe you'd got caught mediating."
me: "Mediating? Are Laura and Kevin fighting?"
Mom: "Yes, Kevin finally returned Laura's phone calls today...and...well, they both are at fault."
There's more of course, but I won't bore you with the details of what my brother and sister were fighting about, and how my parents got dragged into it.
First one wasn't going to come, then the other...drama drama more drama. They made peace in the nick of time, and everyone showed up for the meal. I was honored of course.
Well, this time for the first time ever, I left the meal up to my mother. "Surprise me!" I said. She made paella, which was wonderful, because she thought it would make everyone happy. My picky meathead brother won't eat a lot of stuff. But she knew he at least liked chicken. She also put in shrimp and turkey sausage, no mussels, I think I'm the only one that eats them. Well, he turned his nose up at it completely. Wouldn't eat any of it! Not even the saffron rice! What a dolt! She made a blueberry lemon cake with white chocolate frosting for desert, which was heavenly by the way. My parents disappeared into the kitchen to get the cake and coffee and when they got back they said they had an announcement to make.
"All future birthday meals will be eaten out at restaurants." You'd have thought the world just ended. My sister actually started to cry. My poor mother, she'll be turning 7o this year. She deserves a break. She knocked herself out on this meal and Little Lord Fauntleroy wouldn't eat any of it. What did they expect?
Since my sister was already in tears, my dad decided it would be a good time to give her career choice advice. She's always so open to suggestions, and currently between gigs. This went over like a lead balloon.
My brother bailed almost immediately, took his cake to go. I was saying my thank yous and goodbyes. My mother hugged me, and said, "Happy Birthday." I said, "You're kidding, right?"
We laughed, and I left with a whole quarter of the birthday cake. I drove straight to the home of the two skinniest lesbians I know, and presented them with the cake. They were happy to get it, I was happy to get rid of it, and we had a nice visit. Happy Birthday after all.