What a grand night–a group of us gathered to celebrate a friend’s birthday– and not just any birthday–a birthday with a ZERO in it!
She’s a special friend, and someone who has exquisite taste and sensibilities. I can remember the old timers reserving their highest esteem for folks of whom they pronounced “hard workers”. Janet is for sure a hard worker, and she never lets anyone down.
I gave her a “Christmas Cactus” that was about to sport pink blooms, because it will continue to burst forth in celebration of her birthday each year and also will mark the holidays and the birth of Christ. While the bright pink blooms are feminine and remind me of her loveliness and her lady-like ways, the resilient green-ess of the plant reminds me of Janet as well. As delicate as it may appear to be, it is tough and resilient– as is Janet.
I love birthdays. They are a time to look back, and to look forward. A time to be glad we were born, and that we are still here. In short, a time to celebrate, and that is always a good thing.
As is often the case, the celebration of Janet’s planetary arrival involved a birthday dinner. It was not at Mr. Wu’s, but at a local grill. I had a salad with dressing on the side and a fillet, because Mr. Wu has told me that he will eat steak, and this steak was served without enhancement. Me, I say bring on the enhancements, the fireworks and the whole darn circus, let there be Bearnaise, let there be mushrooms glistening in butter, let there be caramelized onions, let there be blue cheese peeking forth from the fillet’s tender center…but this was one austere little fillet.
Likewise with the potato, which also rested un-split and au natural on the plate as if fresh from the rest of its potato posse still in the bag. I can’t say I have ever seen food plated like that before. And certainly never ever at Mr. Wu’s, where food is an art form and the plate is a canvas. It was like, well, you gotcher steak, and you gotcher potato!
I am not complaining though, because the steak and the potato in their rustic condition were far less enticing than if they had been gussied up. I suppose I could have eaten the potato, but I decided (easily) not to, and so my only transgression, which I would gladly do all over again, was to eat a piece of Janet’s birthday cake.
It was unbelievably sweet. Just like Janet.