After a few days delay to accommodate a variety of work detail, about a dozen of us headed out to Smithfield's BBQ for a some decent barbecue for some birthday lunch. On the way out of the office, the one peep offered to drive, and three of us hopped into his car for the ride.
The weather was warn and cloudy. Halfway to the restaurant, the bottom dropped out, even though the weather forecast indicated that the morning rain would not continue.
We reached the restaurant safely, our driver parked near the door so my hair wouldn't muss in the rain, and we all piled in for a big mess of BBQ, fried chicken, and the usual sides. Comfort food. It had been a long while since I'd eaten like that, especially with a large group of friends, and the whole shebang just hit the spot. There was even a red balloon.
You might think that'd be enough, but no, there's more. On the way back to the office, our driver took us by Dairy Queen where I got a cone of vanilla, which I ordered as a comb of vanilla, but no one appeared to notice.
All in all, that's not a bad way to spend a belated birthday, especially for an old fart like me, and if that's not a reason to send a card, I don't know what is.