Yesterday I turned 28, so I baked a yeasted plum cake. I found the recipe in this book, which was my birthday present to myself.
I have trouble with my birthday. Every year, I find myself wishing I could just skip it entirely. It really has nothing to do with age, it's more about being an extroverted introvert. Birthdays present the obligation to be celebrated, and expose my discomfort at being the center of attention. Basically, I want everyone to leave me alone, but where is my surprise party?
And then there's the whole business of having just moved to a new/old city not six months ago, and the fact that it takes time to make friends. So, in the midst of this beautiful September, when things keep going so well that part of me is vigilantly waiting for that other shoe, I was a little grumpy.
So I decided to just take the minor extravagances where I could find them. I woke up early, made this plum cake (and whipped cream!), drank two (two!) mugs of tea, drew a pattern for a skirt, hung a couple of pictures on my walls, went for a run, went out for dinner with a friend, and didn't do any dishes. And it was exactly right.