Last night was a Christmas party given by my cousin Margaret, about a half-hour from my parents' house. Also in attendance were my other cousin, Margaret's younger sister Amy, Margaret's fiance Steve, and about six couples, half of each unit being a co-worker of Margaret.

No single men, which Amy and I both harassed Margaret about.

Anyway, it was nice. Went back home around 11 and watched "Dirty Dancing" on TNT for about the millionth time this fall. Watched a very interesting "Sex in the 90's" on MTV about polyamory, which is basically more than two people in a single relationship. The next one was about diseases which wasn't nearly as interesting, so I went to bed.

Awoke on my birthday when my parents got home from church (they had agreed to usher the 8:00 a.m. service, so it wasn't like noon or anything.) Went downstairs and engaged them in my favorite birthday tradition, which is having them tell me about the day I was born.

I can't help it, but it really is the favorite part of my birthday. I like hearing about how my mother's water broke at 2:00 in the morning and she elbowed my father to tell him that they really needed to decide on a boy's name. (My father said "okay" and then fell back asleep.) I like hearing about my father calling my brother to tell him he had a sister and my brother answering, "Oh, I knew that." (My brother was adopted, and before my mother became pregnant, they told him they were going back to the place they got him to get him a little sister.) I like hearing about how after they brought me home, my brother bounced on the bed for two straight days and drank grape juice out of a baby bottle. (He was 4.) And I like hearing about how, at the age of 11 days, I started screaming, and didn't stop for three months. (Colic.)

The loot is nice, too. I got a lovely gray sweater and knit skirt from Eddie Bauer, some jammies with coffee cups on them, a brown-haired angel (I have this thing about the fact that all the angels you see in stores are blonde), and a daily reflections book about women of the Bible.

Returned to my own house this afternoon after stopping to shop for gray clogs to go with my new outfit. Lynne had Katherine and myself over for dinner, where we bitched about law school exams (See? That's why I didn't go to the parties). They're taking me to the Olive Garden tomorrow night with Susannah and Trevor for my official birthday dinner, which will be very nice.

Speaking of birthdays, I just saw this commercial for "Man on the Moon." Did you know that Andy Kaufman and Jim Carrey were both born on the same day? Isn't that weird? I remember doing some experiment in grade school that was supposed to teach us that in a room of 30 people the odds are that two people will have the same birthday. That still doesn't make sense to me.

But of all the people to share a birthday with, I'm glad I share mine with this guy. I don't deserve such journaling company. Happy Birthday, Dr. Scott!