Today is the birthday of the mighty Steve:
From our endless sorrow we are granted a reprieve,
Ere clouds of gloom descend once more upon our brows.
Let us seize this opportunity to get smashingly drunk.

Amen to that.

What a dandy birthday weekend that was! Saturday was a birthday party cookout (involving my first purchase of meat in many, many years, as I picked up two packs of Hebrew National hot dogs for my meat-eating guests). Much beer-drinking occured as we enjoyed the lovely day. Hart and Chas took turns on grill duty; I ate mushroom caps and veggie burgers and potato salad and crackers and avacado cheese dip and potato chips and corn chips and salsa. A random homeless guy swung by and was given a hot dog. Books and the occupation of teaching and non-profits and computers and housing in Boston and divinity school were all yammered about. As the evening lengthened, the hardcore among us — Andrew and Greg and Amy (celebrating her new job as an assistant to legal counsel in the cough adult entertainment industry) — settled in for more beer drinking and penny poker. Sunday was sleeping in and heading downtown to buy myself a present and walking around in the bright sunlight and eating mozzerella sticks while I read my new book, then coming home to watch The Limey. Thanks to all my friends for making the weekend so lovely. Special thanks to Fey, who wrote a poem to celebrate:

Today is the birthday of the mighty Steve:
From our endless sorrow we are granted a reprieve,
Ere clouds of gloom descend once more upon our brows.
Let us seize this opportunity to get smashingly drunk.

Amen to that.