One good thing that came out of my little sister spending so much time at my parents' house prior to my grandma's death is that she scanned hundreds of old family photos so we could all enjoy them in electronic form. This one is not necessarily my favorite, but it is the only one that features my puffed-out cheeks and a frightening clown cake. The photo, by the way, is from my sixth birthday, the year I received five different cakes. Oddly, I liked the scary clown one best. There's no accounting for my six-year-old taste. (The red smocked dress might also be evidence of that.)
Here's hoping any cakes I see today are not of the nightmare-inducing variety. I'm also hoping the birthday present Mother Nature gave me this morning was just a brief, cruel joke and the snow and ice that made my commute to work a bit harrowing are long gone before my friends and I venture out to my birthday gathering tonight. If there is one thing I should not have to do on my birthday, it is shovel. Well, shovel or have a root canal. Or clean my bathroom. Or get a flat tire. Hell, there are a whole lot of things I should not have to do on my birthday, I suppose. But I'll stick to the shoveling thing for now. Go, Sun, go!