52

October 3rd is my birthday. Over the last 52 years, I’ve had amazing birthday celebrations. Since 39, My Favorite has been more or less “in charge” of them. We’ve gotten home on October 1st before and he has come up with drinks on the balcony of a magnificent hotel and dinner reservations at our favorite restaurant—at our favorite table, even. One year, there was a Moroccan restaurant, a bracelet, AND reservations to Morocco itself (that had to be canceled through no fault of his, or believe, I would have relaunched Stilettos then). When we’ve still been on the road, he’s been just as good. There have been parties with the crew during carnival; grilling by the hotel  pool; and even one year, arranging for a long layover in MSP (Minneapolis-St Paul airport) so he could take me to a lovely café we’d passed so many times and had never had time to stop. We were even trying to remember where we were the year we went to what was recommended as the best restaurant in town, real fine dining, to end up in a strip mall storefront decorated like prom night, seated at folding tables and chairs.

Last night was no exception. On one hand, I had a very ordinary day. Lots of work, back by the pool.

On the other hand, I heard from so many friends and family. I even caught up with one of my Turkish friends (she needs a blog name. You need a blog name!) for tea.

Then, we got dressed up (as much as possible in the road)

and My Favorite took me to dinner. Italian food. A restaurant we’d hoped to get to while we were here.

Totally yummy. The gnocchi (me) was homemade and the squid steak (him) was perfectly prepared. 

And presents, of course. Holiday stoneware I’ve wanted for 20 years. A complete set. Including luncheon plates. With thanks to Sister for taking delivery, so we’re not lugging it around until we get home!

The man knows me and loves me. And pulled it off again. Happy birthday to me.

The adventure continues…

The reason the adventure is so damn good