Today is Rich's birthday.
Which is usually my favorite time of year because for a few short months, we are the same age. And he can't call me an old lady during that time period.
But his birthday is off to a slow start this year. He's stuck in L.A. traffic. Charlie is sick (fever, whiny, won't eat), I've been battling a migraine, and there are other things going on that don't exactly brighten his birthday landscape.
But I'm trying to cheer him up with meaningful cards and his favorite wine . . .
(Of course, his gifts are late. Somewhere in shipping land.)
Here's to the rest of his 33rd year picking up speed!
Happy, happy Birthday, baby! You get better with age.
That's Children's Tylenol spilled down the front of Chazzy's Mackinac Island sweatshirt. Gross, I know.