It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want to...

So the greatly anticipated day has finally arrived- my 23rd birthday! And for those of you that are scratching your head while doing the math, every birthday since my 23rd birthday has been celebrated as my 23rd birthday! Maybe I should call it the anniversary of my 23rd birthday! As with everything, there's a story behind that, but I won't be sharing it today!

You see, today I woke up to Superman and C and W singing me "Happy Birthday" in bed, with a 23-candle cake lit in glowing glory! (And just so you know, cake in bed beats breakfast in bed, any day!) There were presents and cards and hugs and kisses. It was all "peaches and roses", as my Greek boss from high school would say. The sun was shinning, the birds were singing. All was well in my happy little world. Until suddenly, I felt the unmistakable signs of a tummy-bug hit me like a Mack truck! For the sake of my still-recovering-tender-tummy, I'll stop right there with the details.

When I finally managed to drag myself from the bedroom into the kitchen, I used my most pitiful, damsel in distress voice to announce that I needed a do-over for my birthday day! My request was granted by the three wise men, so another birthday post will follow...