Last night I slept on a cot in front of the fire. It didn’t die out until three or four in the morning, so I slept warm and cozy all night long.

Today our cousin Kathy invited us over to celebrate my sister’s birthday with a big lunch of chicken fettucini. Kathy had wanted to throw a surprise party for Marisa yesterday evening, and they had it all arranged with me so that I would show up at the party instead of coming straight in, but then Kathy didn’t feel well and had to put it off a day. It made things less complicated for me, and still let us have a nice big dinner and celebration.

They had baked a big, lucious chocolate cake for Marisa with lots of candles on it for her to blow out while we sang “Happy Birthday.” It was good to have a family birthday party with my sister – Grandmother was there, and Kathy and her husband David, and their children, as well as David Hobart and Marisa and me. Marisa had celebrated her birthday by going out with her friends on her actual birthday last Tuesday, but this one was with the family.

I had already given her her present. Last night, when I came in, I gave Marisa her card and birthday present. She was pleasantly surprised to find out that I had gone to the trouble of actually wrapping her gift this year. (“Yeah,” I said, “I remembered that girls like things like wrapped presents.”)

This evening, we went to Aniston to Marisa’s church, “Word Alive.” It’s an independent church, with a kind of Pentecostal atmosphere, without the speaking in tongues. I appreciated that their choir wore black uniforms instead of the shiny purple or red robes you often find in churches like this – it keeps the atmosphere from turning into a showy performance instead of focusing on worship. The pastor was a powerful preacher, and I was impressed with both his content and his delivery. My father used to teach sermon delivery on the college level, and after growing up hearing careful critiques of the pastor every Sunday on the way home from church, my appreciation for really good preaching is finely honed.

Afterwards, we went with Billy and Erika to a pizza shop and talked and ate. I like Marisa, and I like Marisa’s friends. They’re real and open and honest, which can be good or bad, but they’re also intelligent and nice, which makes the package deal rather rare and valuable. Of course, David Hobart and Billy wound up in the arcade machine section trying to get candy out of one of those “grabber claw” games. (They were only moderately successful, but they had a lot of fun, which I guess was the real point.)

Last night, Marisa made apple crisps for us. They were positively scrumptious, and I had intended to polish them off tonight, but I had managed to get the pizza place to make my special pineapple-mushroom-and-anchovie pizza for me, and I simply did not have any room left.

It’s good to be full.