It began with a biscuit

I had a birthday this past week. It was on Thursday.

Thank you!

So, the celebrations began last Sunday -- although they commenced sort of by accident.

Allow me to elaborate.

TG and I, together with any of our children who wish to tag along, have been going out for after-church Sunday lunch to many of the different breakfast restaurants in Columbia.

As in, places that are open only for breakfast (although they serve it until two or three o'clock in the afternoon).

Starting about six months ago, we've been to Le Peep in the Vista; The Original Pancake House at Trenholm Plaza on Forest Drive; Eggs Up Grill in Ballentine; Creekside Cafe and Cafe Strudel in Lexington, and the Just Us Cafe in Cayce.

Also Cracker Barrel in Irmo, but that's more or less a default place for Sunday lunch unless we get adventurous.

Last Sunday, our chosen Sunday-lunch-in-the-form-of-breakfast venue was the Just Us Cafe, which I'd been wanting to visit for a long time.

Our son-in-law Chad, who grew up in the Columbia area, knows ALL the great places to get breakfast. It was he who, several months ago, vouched for Just Us Cafe and encouraged us to add it to our burgeoning list.

At Just Us, it's casual. When you walk in, there's a gumball machine by the door. On top of the gumball machine is a mangled spiral notebook with about ten pages of college-ruled paper left in it.

A plastic ballpoint pen sits on top.

You grab the pen and sign in -- name and number in your party -- and then get in line.

The line snakes from the door all the way the length of the full-service counter, practically to the back door near the restrooms.

We waited about fifteen minutes for a table.

The food was delicious, and as I consumed the last crumbs of my breakfast, I told our server as much. In fact, I described it as a sublime experience and said it made me particularly happy because it was my birthday week.

She lit up like a little old firefly. What's your name? she said.

I told her and she trotted away. She was back a few minutes later with a biscuit for me, with a pink birthday candle -- lit -- sticking out of it. 

And then you won't believe what happened. At our server's prompting, the entire restaurant full of people sang Happy Birthday to me.

That's right! Everyone stopped eating and sang, using my actual name after the word dear. And the place was packed out!

I held up my flaming biscuit while dozens of faces turned towards me and sang -- with a great deal of enthusiasm, I must say, since none of them knew me from Adam's off ox.

my birthday cod

Only in the South.

Of couse, I could not eat the biscuit -- fluffy and still-warm as it was. I'd just finished a fluffy and still-warm Belgian waffle, three perfectly scrambled eggs, and two sausage patties the size of coasters.

Plus at least three cups of coffee.

The next night, my children threw my actual birthday party -- this one at Sun Ming, my favorite Chinese restaurant.

There were ten of us around the big round table with the lazy Susan in the middle. Chad's parents joined us too.

We feasted on Kung Pao Chicken, General Tso's Chicken, Chow Steak Kew, Sesame Chicken, Orange Chicken, Tip Par Beef, Ginger Chicken, steamed broccoli, jasmine rice, and egg fried rice. 

My on-the-house birthday treat that evening -- served along with the fortune cookies -- was a bowl filled with chunks of juicy cantaloupe melon. Several of us ate some, and I took the rest home for my breakfast the next morning.

Back at the house, we had cupcakes, lemon meringue pie, and decaf Cafe Bustelo. Also presents!

As usual, everyone was so kind and generous. Erica got me the cleverest birthday cod. Audrey's card featured a possum being borne aloft by a birthday balloon.

Andrew and Brittany gave me a Little Hippo Letter Board (I'd been wanting one of those) and a glass skull treat jar. (I stashed some chocolate-filled croissants behind the skull's leering grin.)

I received a beautiful pen (I am so fond of pens) and a new notebook to doodle in, and stationery cards, and jewelry, and various other wonderful gifts.

My birthday was still three days away.

What happened on my actual birthday? On Thursday? You may want to know.

I'll tell you later. It's pretty special.

But you'll have to wait because that is all for now.

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Happy Weekend

Freeze

Nightly freeze warnings continue for Columbia ... hence the oversized plastic bags still swaddling our chunky poolside planters.

We were told when we bought them that if the sand inside took on water during the winter, and then froze, the ceramic planters would crack.

The cardinals and Carolina wrens don't seem to mind or even notice the plastic when they're chowing down beside the pool where I throw birdseed.

I gave up on luring them to the window feeder about six feet from where you see them.

Although, now and then I do see a wren perched there, pecking away for a moment or two at the mix of safflower and sunflower seeds.

These photos were taken from at least twenty feet away, through a glass door, as I sat in my chair in the sun room.

I throw the seed down and within minutes, there are at least a half-dozen birds feasting. I love to watch them.

The cardinals have loved our yard for as long as I can remember, and I wish I'd begun feeding them earlier.

They must have a nest in a nearby tree. 

One where I hope they are snug and warm during these last few freezing nights before spring.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Wednesday

Marching on with Dagny

Did it come in like a lion?

I spent the last four hours of February and the first fourteen hours of March with Dagny.

Due to her mother's work schedule, Dagny has a sleepover with us practically every other Thursday. We all look forward to it and I leave that Friday morning open for anything Dagny wants to do.

After my coffee hour, that is.

All four of my grandchildren have had to adjust to the fact that when they stay the night with me, until I've had my coffee the next morning -- two mugsful, consumed at my leisure -- nothing much else will be happening at Casa Weber.

They don't like it -- I can tell -- but I don't feel sorry for them. I advise them to deal with it because that's life.

So Dagny busied herself this morning playing with Rizzo and with her toys, checking anxiously every so often to see how much coffee remained in my cup.

You're not going to rush me, I said at about ten o'clock. She was up until midnight the night before, and had nothing to complain about.

She creased her brow but did not reply. I didn't see much of her for the next fifteen minutes, although she was nearby in the next room.

After coffee, it's our habit to get dressed and ready for the day. This morning, Dagny took the initiative and outfitted herself with clothing she found in her suitcase.

(She gets all the tags and directions correct, and when she's finished, she looks as though an adult has dressed her. Sometimes a clash-prone adult, but an adult nonetheless.)

We brushed teeth and hair and made sure everything was seen to grooming-wise, before embarking on our first adventure.

Time for slime ... but first, a portrait

Which involved repairing to the kitchen to make slime. But first, I posed Dagny on the porch and took her picture. She will be five -- or is that twenty-five? -- on her birthday in June.

Now, slime-wise, this wasn't our maiden voyage. We experimented with it -- and also with making oobleck -- a few weeks ago.

Dagny has been watching slime videos on YouTube for some time. Even so, she had never come right out and asked me to make slime for her or with her.

I'm pretty sure she thought that only very special people with unique YouTubey talents could even do anything like that.

But I isolated what I consider to be the easiest slime recipe out there, and TG and I secured the ingredients on a recent trip to the Retailer Which Shall Not Be Named.

When I told Dagny -- this was a couple of weeks ago -- that we would be making slime that day, she fairly shrieked with joy and anticipation.

After scraping her off the ceiling, I set about assembling on the countertop all the things we'd need. 

I'm embarrassed to admit that I was a trifle nervous, that first time. What if my slime didn't slime up like it was supposed to? What if it didn't step up to the plate? 

What if I botched it somehow? I'd only ever seen a video of it being made; I'd never attempted to make a batch in real time.

I needn't have worried; falling off a log from a supine position takes considerably more savvy than whipping up a stretchy, gooey, glitter-studded blob of pastel-colored slime.

Foolproof slime recipe

First you measure out six ounces of Elmer's School Glue. Don't use any other kind.

Measure out one-half teaspoon of baking soda.

Next, toss in one and one-half tablespoons of saline solution.

You could start stirring at that point and technically you'd have slime, but what would be the fun in that?

So you grab your food coloring and decide what color you want your slime to be.

Yellow? Add yellow. Orange? Add yellow and red. Pink? Just red. Purple? Red and blue. Green? Blue and yellow.

You get the idea.

Then, just before you mix, throw in as much glitter as you dare.

Start stirring. Once you've got the whole thing semi-incorporated, pump in about two or so cups of shaving cream (not the gel kind). Don't measure; just eyeball it.

(The addition of this sweet-smelling ingredient makes your slime officially fluffy-grade. And once you've had fluffy slime, you won't be interested in non-fluffy slime. Trust me.)

Mix, stir, mix, stir ... then ditch whatever you're stirring with and work everything together with your hands, being sure to scrape all of the shaving cream off the sides of the bowl.

Voilà! You have made slime.

Dagny and I made pink first today, and then, in honor of March, we made green.

I love making slime. Not only is the end result fascinating and fun to play with, but it's easy and delightful to make, and takes only a few minutes, and I'm pretty sure you'd have to be a real dolt to mess it up.

Pipe cleaner people and more

After Dagny and I made slime, we had a project involving pipe cleaners.

We made pipe cleaner glasses. Well -- frames. No lenses were involved.

We made a pipe cleaner person in silver -- with an oversized silver head, no neck, no hands, and no feet.

He was an abstract. And yes; he was a he. We don't do genderless at our house.

Then we made pipe cleaner numbers, one through ten (well, zero).

After that, it was time for a bite of lunch and before that was concluded, Audrey walked through the door.

It was a rainy morning (make that a rainy day, followed by what is now a rainy night), and I'm not sure I could have spent it in a more enjoyable manner.

Or in the company of a more precious little partner in crime slime.

And that is all for now.

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Happy Weekend :: Happy March