I take my birthday seriously

I used to beg my parents to take me to San Francisco for my birthday. I was forever hoping for the thrill of being somewhere exciting to celebrate my birthday every changing year. And I've always been grateful for the couple of times they actually obliged me.

Except for the year my wallet was stolen at Fisherman's Wharf. I was watching the gold-painted guy dance to the beats of his ghetto-blaster when my backpack was stealthily unzipped and I was robbed. Rookie mistake.

This past Friday brought my birthday again, and we decided to block out the entire weekend, here at home in Utah. Traditionally we start the celebration with a trip north to the Red Iguana for the pleasure of their burritos smothered in mole pablano. This year couldn't have gone better. As if on cue just as we arrived, we heard the rumble of a freight train approaching. My 2-year-old son stood transfixed for a good 15 minutes as the train passed, bright red and yellow cars zooming through the neighborhood. I got to eat in peace, and my son has not stopped talking about it since.

And eat we did! I can't tell what I like more at the Red Iguna, the spot-on service or bathing my tastebuds in glory.

Friday evening we invited my siblings and their spouses over for cake and ice cream. Not content with the mundane, we chose Utah County's best cake -- "The Husband" from the dreamy dessert cafe The Chocolate in Orem. It's a triple-layered, soft yellow cake with whipped chocolate frosting, and if I didn't know better, I'd say there was just a little fantasy baked in there as well. Topped with fresh vanilla ice cream from The Creamery at BYU, you've got yourself a celebration of local delights.

And speaking of fantasy, after the candles were blown out (not telling how many) (OK, 34) and plates were licked clean, we watched Jimmer and the boys halt New Mexico in the Mountain West Tournament. My brother said it was the best basketball game he's ever watched. Not even the gold guy on Fisherman's Wharf can out-entertain Jimmer.

As a surprise gift, my husband somehow secured -- from our friend and acclaimed Utah artist J. Kirk Richards -- an original painting from his mother and child series, which he presented to me when I just wasn't expecting. I was so shocked and moved by the painting that I burst into tears. I actually put my face in my hands and sobbed. Even now, a few days later when I look at that painting, I get weepy.