Ut-oh. I've never done a birthday post for someone who wasn't an official member of the family, or our dog. What could it mean? Well, today is Corey's birthday; I'm breaking my rule because he's 22 today I say I say I say he's TWENTY-TWO YEARS OLD and that, son, is not very old for all the things that boy can do.
Anyone who cleans and organizes my spice cabinet out of pity and a desire to introduce order to chaos has my undying gratitude. I try to keep it nice. But tonight I put a spice mix on the Unmixed Spices shelf. I did that. You're going to have to come back and set me straight again. Soon, please.
But organizing cabinets is only one of his virtues. He has a romantic streak a mile wide, and he loves to surprise Phoebe, loves to keep her guessing. He showed up as a complete surprise once to take her to a formal dance at Bowdoin. She'd been planning to go with a bunch of friends, so she had a dress all picked out, but...sigh. He took a bus from Boston to Maine and texted her that afternoon, asking her to look out her dorm room window.
SQUEE!! Phoebe about keeled over. Needless to say, so did I when I got this from Phoebs.
When he comes to visit there are pies, cookies, bars, arrghh. And they're all so good. We're helpless. He bakes. Lord, he bakes.
Also from 2017's visit, my favorite of a zillion favorite photos of Corey and Phoebe. He's caught her a New Year's bullfrog!
|photo by Kris Macomber, atop the tower at Sweet Auburn.|
Bill: I'm sorry about the legs. If it helps, I think it's cute. I like to watch Carmelita bounce as you strum. Had to get Corey's socks in there, Chet Baker looking for fiddlecrumbs too.