Happy Birthday, Cervantes!

Happy Birthday to me!

That's right, Miguel de Cervantes was born on this day in 1547. I was born on this day in 1966. Not a bad birthday-sharer, I think. Enrico Fermi is another, but it rapidly gets anticlimactic from there. Who would have guessed that I entered the world on the precise same day that Cheryl Whelan, "Vicki" from The Love Boat, was born?

39 seems great so far. I got some lovely gifts. The very best was that, with my husband's guidance, the beloved toddler signed her name on a birthday card. I do feel very grown up. I had a long day at the office, leaving an hour earlier than usual, getting home an hour later; I popped out of work for a few minutes to go buy myself a birthday cake; I came home, made Annie's mac'n'cheese for the beloved toddler; I popped "Kipper" in the DVD player and soused the mac with ketchup; I made my favorite potatoes au gratin, steak, and green beans; I put the beloved toddler to bed; I ate with my husband and then I cleaned up the kitchen. (Don't get too hard on him: he came through with chocolates and two cds; he's got a cold and his work week was even more wicked than mine.) After all that, to be able to say that it was indeed a great birthday feels good.

(Nice to know, too, that a babysitter is coming on Saturday night for a proper blow-out...)