51 : Happy Golden!
Time to celebrate five family birthdays at once out at the Big House. Grandma: 80. Oxbear: 32. Rose: 26. Ansel: 23. Yali: 3. And in the middle of that mix was Rose’s golden birthday, and her actual birthday.
After church there were platters of pre-celebratory homemade spanakopita and homemade peanut butter cookies waiting on the counter before the real meal later in the afternoon.
Outside, the air was a complete swamp. Several of us sat in the sauna of the backyard, hardly moving, watching the boys run through the lawn sprinkler. Puck paused temporarily to announce his abhorrence of the big ants that ran up his back when he decided to walk through one of their nests.
“I HATE ANTS MORE THAN ANYTHING!” he growled, taking a breather at the picnic tables.
Meanwhile, Yali paused from the sprinkler to examine the angel statues sitting on the patio.
“He’s praying to the statues!” one of the girls pointed out.
Yali’s little hands were folded together in front of him as he pondered the cherubs.
“We saw him doing that in Colombia,” I said, wondering if he was remembering his roots.
Then Puck ran over to join the party, folding his hands together, too.
“Puck, don’t teach him bad theology!” Rose said with a grin.
Puck grinned right back. “It’s HIS theology!”
“Yeah, we only worship idols at Grandma’s house,” Oxbear teased.
About an hour later, thunder growled like jets in the north. Grandma had arrived. So had Theodore, Gloria, Ansel, and his girlfriend.
Carrie-Bri got busy making mac attack burgers (burgers with a thick layer of homemade macaroni and cheese on top). Then everyone crowded in the living room to at least keep half an eye on the game – St. Louis in Seattle.
And of course, gifts for everyone who still hadn’t opened gifts. Golden birthday girl raked in big with a custom embroidered Blue Angels jacket and antique bubble gum machine. And for Yali’s first-ever American birthday, he was doused in puzzles, books, animals, crayons, and stickers. Enough to elicit several genuine gasps of surprise from the little guy as he worked through one gift after another.
When we got home for the evening – all those thunderstorm opportunities come to naught – a few raindrops sprinkled the driveway. We’re still waiting for the big one.