Before book club on Friday night, I used a sharpie to do some writing on a white card and grabbed a glitter clothespin along with a few candles and festive napkins from my party cupboard. And then put some ice in a cooler with three different kinds of cheese and red grapes. Next up was figuring out how to fit the checkerboard cheese cutting board in the one bag along with the two boxes of crackers and toothpicks and olives. Because you can't be having cheese without the checkerboard. It just isn't right. Then I grabbed my newly sewn (via Momma Debi) kindle case and set off to find which brown leather chair I'd sit in this time to join the midst of high heels and best friends.
You see we had a birthday among us. So a "cheese" cake we had and some celebrating of life we did.
Complete with too much wine and laughing until our faces hurt and talking about topics that usually would be considered off the table but never are with our group which, in my opinion, is precisely the way it should be.
I love birthdays. I love channeling my inner Mary Poppins to see just how many goodies I can pack into one bag. I love throwing candles in cheese, calling it a cake because why not, and singing for someone who deserves to be sung for. I love being in a book club with a group of strong and fiesty women who I admire. I love this life with every reason it provides for celebrating.
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