Mojito Mojo

One nice thing about the birthday of a dear friend is that it gives you an opportunity to drink mojitos, guilt free. Tonight is all about celebrating one of my January Babies.

She's a 5'1" dynamo, with a head of thick, glossy black hair and a smile that is so full of playful mischief that all children seem to immediately recognize her as a kindred spirit. Seriously, they dance around her the way Junebugs dance around a porch light. I haven't seen one yet who didn't connect to her.

It's not just the mischief in her smile, of course. It's the light in her eyes. You know immediately -- whether you are a child or not -- that you are in the presence of a kind and generous heart. And you instinctively relax.

But it's the mischief that makes her fun to be around! This is a woman who, upon playing a board game called Dirty Minds -- or something like that -- complained that the game "wasn't dirty enough." Trust me on this. It was plenty dirty! Just not, apparently, dirty enough for frolicsome wood nymphs . . . or Belvedere vodka drinkers, perhaps. In fact, tonight after mojitos, I may have to walk her past that ad . . . and if she agrees that it's over-the-top? Well . . . I'm going to pull a couple of red markers from the supply closet just in case!

Happy Birthday, dear friend!! The world is a nicer place because you're in it. (And please remember that I wrote this when you slice the birthday cake . . . I mean, I'm not saying you should give me a bigger piece or anything . . . but maybe a little extra frosting!)