Reflecting on my 25th birthday.

I just got off the phone with my lovely and talented friend Spanish Houlihan. She too hates her current job and we delight in breaking all the corporate rules by engaging in personal phone conversations that exceed five minutes. In hushed three-inch voices we giddily discussed the measurements of our respective cubicles, and I delighted in the knowledge that mine is in fact larger than hers. Smaller than a jail cell, mind you, but large enough for one of those butterfly chairs you might have had in your college dorm room. So after we finished discussing our work-environments….the conversation turned to yesterday’s birthday celebration.

Yesterday, as you know, I turned 25.

To celebrate, my family and I made plans to go to dinner, which is what we do for every family member’s special day-with the exception of my father whose only wish is to be left alone to nap in his easy chair. The running joke between all of my brothers’ friends is that the Westchester clan only EVER goes to one of two places to eat: the Club or this Tex Mex joint called the Highland House. Since moving downtown, I thought this year might be the perfect time to break away from that tradition and try one of the many restaurants Milwaukee’s vibrant scene has to offer. So I made this suggestion to my mother.

First she laughed. Then when she realized I wasn’t joking she accused me of being unreasonable and said that I was (and this is a direct quote) “killing my father.” (We all laughed about this later of course, but at the time, I thought she was being a little, how should I say this, crazy.) Anyway, after five minutes of “animated” debate she agreed to call my father at work and ask him if he would be willing to leave Mequon for my birthday dinner. To make a long story short (too late), he (of course) agreed and it was decided I would do some research and pick a place that was both reasonably priced and would not make us wait an hour to eat.

After grilling my friend and co-worker Peaches Wilson about some restaurants that would cater to all the possible whims of my family, I settled on this place called Harry’s. My family picked me up and after a seemingly endless commute (exacerbated by my father’s insistence on driving the exact speed limit) we arrived at our destination. Needless to say, my parents loved Harry’s and throughout the course of the meal my mother raved about her salad and named off several groups of her friends that she could bring there for luncheons.

This weekend the birthday festivities will continue with a trip to Noah’s Ark with my friends Spanish, Jazzy A, Peppermint Patty and Hope Valentine. I am really excited for water slides and girlish giggling.