Memory Monday: Sweet 16

While I remember birthdays as being happy affairs with lots of (frozen, bought in the freezer case) German Chocolate Cake, (Mother was not what you might call a baker), I don't necessarily remember individual celebrations unless tied to event-years. Eighteen: going off to college the next week. Twenty-one: married less than a week. Thirty: gave myself a bridge party and hired a babysitter. Forty: My elder son's friends presented me with a tee shirt and a mug. Fifty: maybe we should just stop there. Oh, okay. Fajita party at a local restaurant and I made all the pies for dessert! As it turns out, cakes are not my forte either, but I'm a heckuva pie/cheesecake maker.

Sixteen: Sparklers on my cake.

We'd gone out to lunch, probably a movie after because Mother liked movies. We were in Dallas but I can't remember the restaurant. We sat in a booth. The walls were green. It was late for lunch. And one of us mentioned that it was a double birthday, mine and Daddy's. The waitress brought us a small cake with white icing and a sparkler on top.

What fun! And it wasn't even frozen.