Late the evening before his birthday, Ryan let it slip that his plans for the morning centered around fresh doughnuts and hot chocolate. Truth be told, he was kind of giddy about it, and I can’t say I blame him. So in true awesome-wife fashion, I went to bed with grand plans of waking up early before work and surprising him with the best dang doughnut Concord could provide.
Long story short, I did what I always do: I hit the snooze button 3 times too many and woke up right at six. Which may sound early, but I normally leave for work at six-thirty, so I was kind of screwed. Thus I made an ever-important decision:
Shower or doughnuts? I’ll spare you the suspense and tell you the pastry won. Poor coworkers. Lucky husband!
I threw scrubs on and headed to the nearest corner grocery store. No time for high-class bakeries, unfortunately. As I made a mad dash to the bakery section, I noticed that the glass case was empty. Not a single doughnut. My heart raced and I kind of got a pit in my stomach. Yes, I really am that dramatic.
Then, I noticed two apron-wearing ladies way in the back of the kitchen pulling what looked like freshly made bundles of doughnut joy out of a few huge ovens. So I made a fool of myself calling out for them. They ignored me. But I would not be thwarted, so I waved my arms and yelled until they looked at me. What happened next is a blur, but somehow they iced two piping hot doughnuts for me and I was out of the store and back in my little house in less than four minutes, flat.
I stuck a candle in one, lit the sucker and ran upstairs to my sleeping 27-year-old. As is only appropriate, I woke him with an Aretha Franklin inspired version of “Happy Birthday” and bunch of birthday kisses. And I still made it to work on time, but only just barely.
Because we both had to work, we made that evening pretty low-key. Indian food and Ryan’s favorite TV show, Shark Tank, summed up our awesome party. But then again at our house we believe that all you need is Chicken Tikka Masala and a hearty portion of naan.
Saturday meant calendar-wrapped presents and other birthday activities. In between conference sessions we unleashed our inner granola and headed to the Berkeley Potter’s Studio to throw a few clay pots. You see, when Ryan and I were first dating, I took a ceramic class. Needless to say, I was terrible. Ryan however, was awesome (it was soooo annoying). He is literally the only reason I passed that class. So I thought it would be fun to relive our glory days. Let’s just say we were both more than a little rusty.
Later that evening we had a little grilled pizza party with friends, complete with 1,000 toppings and fresh mozzarella. Bliss. Then the birthday boy indulged in a little cheesecake and we called it a night. Are you noticing a trend? Fat and happy, that’s how we do birthdays around here.
Happy 27, Ry! You are truly the greatest light in my life.