Birthdays Babies Cathedrals

My birthday was last week. For the past couple of years I've had to celebrate my birthday while traveling for work. Fortunately I like the people I work with so it's not completely terrible. By the time I get back from the trip it's always time to move on to our anniversary. After that passes I'm not really in the birthday celebration mood anymore. This year Seth brought my presents along so that at least 10% of the day felt birthday-ish. (The other 90% was full of budget discussions, setting annual goals, and going over new policies. Not really birthday material.)

One of the gifts I opened was a book from my sister on the history of cathedral architecture. No, hang with me. It will make total sense. Several months ago there were a few weeks where I thought I might be pregnant. It even got to the point that my doctor had me come in for an official doctor test. (I know. Now you're all wondering was it an on-purpose potential pregnancy or a total freak scare. And after much deliberation I have decided not to tell you either way. Because it's between me and Seth. Not me and the blog. And because it's way more fun this way.) The doctor test was negative for lifeforms taking up residence in my uterus. But I was positive for a total emotional melt down. Tears. Snot. Heaving sobs. About how I was nowhere near ready to bring a little person into this world. Because. Get this. I don't have enough books on art and architecture and design. Yes, that is why I panicked. That was the reason for the heaving sobs. Seth kept trying to pry out if there was something more to it. But no. Even in a totally sane state (as I am in while I write this now) months later, I seriously cannot imagine bringing a kid into this home without way more glossy pages of inspiration available for perusing. I was caught off-guard and completely unprepared. Because, to my knowledge, after baby comes all the money gets funneled into cribs and pureed broccoli and bouncy swings and all the other necessities of life. Pre-baby is the time for art books. And we are seriously lacking in art books at this pre-baby point in time.

When I was a tiny person I remember spending hours flipping through my dad's books on Georgian architecture and how to execute shadowing in pen and ink sketches. Falling Water? Could have described it to you by kindergarten. When Santa brought me a fancy dollhouse at the age of six, my dad selected a stack of books from his shelf on traditional Victorian homes and told me to start thinking through period-appropriate paint schemes. I'm not kidding. This is serious stuff. I had told my sister the story of my baby freak out and she responded with a book explaining the difference between Gothic and Baroque cathedrals. She's a cool lady. And I guess she figured the more books she gives me the more likely her son will finally be granted an cousin. So now I have one more to add to my pile of fun but unnecessary books to flip through.

On our way back from Virginia, I also got breakfast and birthday cake at Ice Box in terminal D of the Miami airport. (You know I love me some Ice Box.)

Because if you have to celebrate your birthday while traveling, why wouldn't you use it as an excuse to eat some of this.