Pete hates birthdays. Which is why I've spent the last three years trying to perfect the casual, no-big-deal (but HEY! It's your birthday!) birthday for Pete.
Pete celebrated his 29-going-on-19th birthday on Sunday. And no, I didn't give him a gift. Because, like, we don't do that. Instead, I took the day off work. And we spent the whole day together. All 25 hours of it! Savin' daylight and celebratin' births!
To start things off right, we grabbed lunch at Shady Grove with ol' girl Leslie, whom we've missed ever since she and her fabulous husband, Kerry, scurried off to Salt Lake City. Leslie, who we first met when we were neighbors at the RV park, is now a super smart Humanities professor at a university in Utah. What you know about the relevance of Nineteenth-century mathematics and narrative realism in Dickens' novels, yo!? Yea, that's what I thought...
Anyways, Pete was absolutely thrilled to be another year older:
|He loves me.|
In all honesty, though, we couldn't be more happy to have some time with Leslie. I just can't get enough of her:
|Trying to absorb her smartness through osmosis.|
After leaving the restaurant, we spotted an old Proletariat (Kerry's clothing/graffiti company) sticker, covered up by some shmucky band poster. I ripped that crap down and Leslie posed for a picture with her man.
In Love-A-Bull's record-breaking effort towards the world's largest gathering of pitbull-type dogs, Gremlin represented the 304th attendee. And she was definitely a fan favorite. She's got the best ears.
Later, we headed over to Molly and Josh's house where they made us a lovely dinner and secretly baked a birthday cake, managing to keep Pete in the living room throughout the process. It was beautiful. And then we destroyed it.
And of course, a good birthday dinner isn't complete without a show. Cirque De Pitbulleil, ladies and gentlemen: