We celebrated a slew of Hunt birthdays about two weeks ago. Caroline's birthday is notoriously looked over, since Katie had the audacity to have her on December 29th. Robby didn't fare much better with January 7. Sista Katie entered the world on February 9th.
Only yours truly gets to command a solo fiesta since my entrance into the world was perfectly timed in June.
We decided that the Hibachi Grill in Carmel was the perfect venue to display our idiotic tendencies.
Genevieve loves a Japanese steakhouse experience.
I love ridiculous headgear.
I commanded Katie to purchase unicorn horns from Paper Source, since she hit up the mall prior to the party.
She complied, because...duh.
$40 later, we were ready to prance.
I didn't anticipate spending that much for festive attire, but Katie practically put me in a headlock until I wrote a check.
I now have unicorn horns for rental, if you happen to require any.
The boys were all too eager to cross horns.
I enjoyed a cocktail to help me tolerate a visual display of raw meat.
YaYa and G snuggled the whole time, as is their custom.
I pretended to cook.
I forced the guests of honor to stand in front of this fountain until they had to flee for a restroom break.
The unicorn cake that YaYa brought was a fabulous finale to the evening's fun.
My parents took G for an overnight adventure in a hotel so that I could have a break.
Mothering a single child is truly exhausting.
I mean, really.
Ha!
T and I hit up a whisky bar on Sunday afternoon because that's what everyone does after church.
I had the first whisky drink that I have ever enjoyed. It was called the Violet Beauregard.
Last weekend I took Mother to see Beautiful, The Carole King musical.
I just adore Carole King. I may have mentioned this before, but my father sent me Tapestry on CD when I moved to North Carolina in 2001 to start my first year of teaching. As I drove my Sentra to school each morning, I listened to Carole warble "So Far Away." I would cry the entire way, partially because I missed Indiana and my family, but mostly because the children in my first class were most certainly spawn of the devil himself.
So that album has personal significance for me, beyond the message of female empowerment that she was espousing in 1971.
It empowers me to know that I survived the year as a naive 22 year old, who is now most certain that half of those children are incarcerated.
The musical was fabulous and on the elevator of the parking garage I saw Karen of HGTV's Good Bones.
Like a normal person, I threw my arms around her and invaded her personal space whilst squealing, "It's you!"
Bless her.
She didn't miss a beat and responded, "It's me!"
In typical Jane form, mother inquired, "how do you know each other?"
Lord.
February is looking up.
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