Glorious.

-MM.

-M.

-M.

I can barely remember how old I am. The fact that I was within the correct milestone is a miracle.

To celebrate, we did what we almost always do, which is find a lot of alcohol and race to get it into our bodies. First one to drink their way to the floor wins! We’re Irish, by heritage, so where this would be irresponsible for most other families, we look at it as something of a cultural hearkening to our roots. All hail our ancestors! Pass the tequila!

Unlike The Girls’ Birthdays– which ended badly, with me crying at the dinner table– Dad’s 50th went off without a hitch, and we took our recreational insobriety to the Saranac Brewery at Kristin’s suggestion. It was, in all, a perfect day. Nobody cried. Nobody argued. The baby was perfect (he didn’t come with us to the brewery) and all the drama it took to get us there was immediately repaid to me at 4:09AM when my father opened the bathroom door and squinted at me real hard, to be sure he wasn’t dreaming, to be sure it was his oldest daughter, home to surprise him on his special day.

In a life where it seems easier to botch things– the lighting is wrong, the timing is off, the reservations are botched– we even managed to perfect the day down to the photographic proof that things were lovely. Below: The Gang, in its entirety. (Also aptly titled: My People.)

Dad, Karlene, Mom, Kristin, Ryan, Me, James, George

To be sure, a birthday this flawless only happens once every 50 years or so. I’m glad we pulled it off and kept it together to do this for my Dad.

xo

-M.

From our crazy, drunk house to yours. Happy Holidays.

But the water coming from the faucet will keep those cats busy as long as I’m willing to let it run. Every *whump* that emits from the sink lets me know that they’re both occupied. They’re trying to hunt water. They’re very cute.

I can sit there with my camera for hours, making aw-you’re-so-sweet noises and snapping away happily. They grow increasingly determined to catch the water, to eat it all up. It’s frustrating when they can’t, and when the calculated lunges turn into aggravated splashing, that’s when the water gets turned off, and everyone gets a treat for having a successful hunt.

Somewhere in between, there are moments of intense focus, especially on the part of Elephant. (Moose gives up faster, and tends to stick his head under and let the water run down his cheeks. He’s a little left-of-center, that one.) Normally, she looks like a small, fuzzy ink-spot. But this particular afternoon, I caught her, in all her evil glory… in the middle of The Hunt.

-M.

No fancy reservations. No epic plans. I’m going to try to take the day off so we can bum around in our sweatpants together, but who knows if that’ll work. It’s exciting in anticipation, but I’m sure it’ll be like any other day, when half the time it feels like we’ve been together forever, and the other half of the time it feels like we’re just getting started.

There’s precious little better for the blood pressure than taking in a sunset with two of my favorite people.

I grew up on a lake, with a beach. We were coming home from a Harvest Festival in Mill Neck, LI, and I saw the sun dipping lower over the ocean. “They might have trees on the North Shore,” James said with a smirk, “But we have the ocean.”

He took me to the beach, which would make the second time all summer I got to go. (The first time was back in May. Early-ish May. Summer Fail.)

And I ran around like a child with my camera, snapping photographs of everything. These are the shots worthy of you.