%$&*#@ Happens

I spent last Sunday celebrating my moms _th Birthday in Portland. We started the day with a lovely and leisurely ladies brunch with family and close friends. After a few glasses of champagne (hold the orange juice) my sister, mom and myself cruised downtown to get our talons did (if you don't speak Staci that means we got a pedicure and manicure).

From there we walked about 2 blocks to Bartini for Tracy's Graduation Party and one of the best'est Portland Happies ever (you know I heart Happies). It was the sort of Sunday afternoon & evening that has no time limits and clocks are simply not necessary. We lost track of time and the number of rounds that had passed. After the party slowly died down we realized it was not best to drive home- so I needed to call in "reinforcements".

Like a Knight In Shining Armor Riding in on a White Horse (actually- it was Barnsie in flip flops driving a white convertible) my sister mom and myself were rescued. Since the night was still moderately young we continued the party closer to my mom's neck of the woods. We found ourselves at McMenamins on Columbia River- each ordering a hamburger and tall glass of water.

The next morning my mom commented on how wonderful her day long birthday party was. I guess when you get to be __ years old it doesn't matter exactly How you spend your birthday, rather it's all about Who you spend it with.

So why the title "%$&*#@ Happens"? I was trying to think of a clever way to tie in one of the funniest events of the day- but didn't want to take away from my mom's celebration. Let's put it this way- at some point in the afternoon without warning a bird decided to "have it's way" with my moms hand. We were sitting outside enjoying ourselves and then - "plop".

The moral of the story is that my mom didn't seem to really care- she was all smiles cause by the time you get to be ___ years old you know that "%$&*#@ Happens" and there's nothing you can do about it but laugh.