There are simply a ridiculous amount of birthdays in August. I could go on about how my wife, the younger monkey, my pop-in-law, half of the employees at work, and a whole slew of bloggers I can now call friends, just to give it a scratch, are all divine summer children. Good wishes to you all. And, yes, there's one more in there to that I keep failing to mention.
But since Aaron let the lion out of the bag, to avoid any confusion it is my birthday in approximately two days, on the 15th. I'll be 29. So there you go.
Just to celebrate early, since a) I don't plan that far ahead in my life and b) I have no idea what wild beasts I may encounter before that time, he and Mikey took me out this evening for dinner at one of my uber-fave eateries, Casa Tina. Thinking that this was not one of those silly chain establishments, but rather somewhere I like to eat and not feel sick afterwards, I did not have any suspicion that the rousing chorus of Happy Birthday by the overly gregarious staff and all of the patrons in the house accompanied by fried ice-cream and a candle would have come my way had it not been for the doings of those meddling kids. (They don't have a dog yet but let's assume any future pets would follow their example, shall we?)
And let's not forget the aluminum foil viking helmet that I've been chastised into wearing. Jealous? Everyone will be wearing them soon, I know.