Today is Angies birthday, and while I can't say how old she is, it's somewhere north of 21 and south of 85.
For putting up with her insane husband, pre-teen daughter, and Rakes and Trot, aka The Devil Dogs, she deserves a weekend away all by herself.
Instead, she gets dinner at Red Lobster and a night without kids, who are staying with my in-laws. Sorry darlin', we'll do the Hawaii trip in about 20 years or so. If you can figure out a way for me to pass out for 18 hours or so to fly in the plane.
So, a very happy birthday to the best Mom, wife, and friend I could ever have asked for. She puts up with more than she should have to, particularly from the supposed "other adult" in the house. If I had to do what she does on a daily basis, I'd end up wandering the street muttering "how does something so small make something that big come out of their body?"
Happy Birthday Ang: you're the best.
Now, can someone tell me how I can convince her that it's a present for HER if I watch Beckett pitch tonight?