Every year for my father’s birthday, some friends throw him a little birthday dinner. It’s nothing too outrageous, just a gathering of about eight to ten friends to wish him well and have a meal and some cake. This year, things took a little turn.

My father and uncle were chatting, and my uncle apparently decided to come as well, even though it’s quite a drive. My father mentioned to another uncle that this was happening, and one thing led to another, and somehow it turned into a combination flash mob and family reunion. When I showed up at the restaurant, in addition to friends, there were cousins and second cousins and uncles and aunts involved, most of whom are pictured to the right.

It was a delightful surprise. I wasn’t expecting all that, and Dad wasn’t either. It was great to see family who we hadn’t seen in years. What a wonderful way to turn 75 39 years old.

My father is a very generous, funny, kind man, and it is utterly unsurprising that he has so many people who care so much about him. It was nice that he got to be reminded of that for his birthday.

I love you, Dad! Happy birthday!

I ran a pair of my handmade handdyed socks through the washing machine. They were fine when they went in, but one of them came out like this.

This was my sturdiest, favorite pair. They’d held up well over the last couple of years. Sigh. I have a huge backlog of socks to darn, too – I’m murder on heels.