Gratefuls

It's day two of weight watchers, and I'm already a little grumbley. Morning coffee without cream and sugar just isn't cutting it, although I refuse to eat my oatmeal without a drop or two of Maine maple syrup. It's sacrilege to use the fake stuff and totally worth the points.

Thank you for the radical birthday comments, emails, phone calls, and ichats. My family in Pocasmello met together at My Mother the Prude's house last night so they could sing 'Happy Birthday' to me, Bernt-style. What is Bernt-style, you so appropriate ask? Bernt (pronounced like burnt toast) is my maiden name, actually it's also my middle name. My name is Stephanie Bernt Hatzenbuehler. Rolls right off your tongue, doesn't it? Anyhooters, Bernt-style is when everyone sings the words to 'Happy Birthday', but the catch is that we all sing it to our own tune. Some people use the tune of another song while others make up their own tune as they go along. The result is something akin to a barn yard of animals wailing at the full moon. My grandpa used to cover his ears and close his eyes until the torture was over, which only served to urge us along with more gusto. The whole ruckus is something I'll never stop loving.

I also had plans with my dear friend, Kitty, who offered to watch Miles while I went to a short work meeting. She showed up with my favorite chicken bean soup and an absolutely knock out arrangement of my favorite flower, stargazer lilies. She made the arrangement herself with twigs of cherry blossoms sticking up from the top. Knock out, I tell you. When I got home, my house was picked up with the dish washer washing. The absolute greatest gift a mama could ask for.

Thank you.