38 is the new 37.

So I turned 38 on Monday, which was also Memorial Day, so I got to pretend that everyone had the day off because of me. The parades? All about me. Take that, honored war dead!

Generally I enjoy my birthday (except for the year that Phil Hartmann was murdered--thanks for ruining my birthday, guys), but this year ranked among the best birthdays so far.

I started my day with a lesson in anatomy.

Birthday present from Henry.

It seems that I am not much more than a bag of gastric juices, which explains much. And I am filled with bubbles, which clears up some things as well. I also have a fairly undersized brain. Or an oversized head. At any rate, it was educational.Thank you, Henry!

(Some of) the adults

We had a Memorial Day barbecue, which meant that Scott got to spend the day frantically grilling. I'm sure he loved it, although I couldn't ask him because he was too busy cursing under his breath.

Rushing to the grill.

Only some people knew that it was also a day to celebrate ME ME ME and everything I stand for. Then the cake came out and those people had to admit that they didn't know it was my birthday, and I stared at them in shock before bursting into tears and throwing my cake on the lawn. Wheee!

Because I was busy sucking down sangria and traumatizing acquaintances, I didn't take many pictures.

Here are some children wreaking havoc on my new birdbath. Damn kids!

Children love mud, and moms love...not this.

My other present was that for the first time in MONTHS, our dog didn't tear ass out of the yard the first chance he got. Charlie's been hell-bent on escaping ever since the temperature rose above 40. Mind you, we're all fenced in, but Charlie can flatten himself and squeeze through fist-sized holes, because he is actually a rat. Did I mention that we found him in a gutter in Tijuana? I knew that was a mistake.

Anyway, if you grill enough meats, your dog will stay put. And then pass out.

Charlie, filled with meats.

While the dog snoozed, the kids ran around in circles, crammed full of juice and hot dogs, spraying each other with the hose. By some birthday/Memorial Day miracle, they all lived to enjoy the birthday cake.

Some kind of performance art is going on.

I know I've griped about suburbia, but I must say, in the past few months I have been happier than ever to live here. There's space, and birds, and neighbors who jump the fence to come hang out with you. This is a good place to be.