Birthdays Birthdays Birthdays.

      Summer babies are the best. Sorry. And there's a lot of them. Or maybe I just surround myself with alike people? My housemate's was yesterday, and in true Danny form he wanted nothing to do with a celebration or even mention of it. I'm pretty indifferent to the celebration of birthdays. I will never deny an excuse to get together and laugh into the wee hours with friends, but then again it's kind of pathetic to need an excuse to do that. While having a late Saturday night dinner at our favorite neighborhood spot, Westville, eating the same meal, with our same waiter, I figured that the reason why I find excitement in birthdays is because it's a day to commemorate a person. All other "holidays" are all about, a historical event, dead people, a new year.....birthdays are a culmination of those; cheers-ing to an actual person that has somehow made enough of an impact or impression on you that you want to be there for their next birthday. So I lied, I'm not indifferent at all, I love them. But if you don't like them, and you're my friend, I'll try to subdue my excitement.
      I woke up on this beautiful birthday-filled day later than is really ever ok. Danny walked into my room and asked what my plans were by saying "the world is your oyster", in which i replied, "my bed is my oyster". We took that to heart, and curled up trying to elongate the quietest time in NYC, a Sunday morning.

      Happy Birthday Danny, Happy Birthday Ryane, Happy Birthday Destinee.

(& The image, nothing more than a Garance Doré illustration blowing you birthday babies kisses)