Well, the Rose Alcantara Birthday Season has closed the books on another year.
Since the day she was born — on Sept. 7, mumble … mumble– the world has often felt a rather frenzied uptick in activity and happiness in the week’s preceding this event.
Long before I met Rose, her birthday season was filled with road rallies, theatrical skits and dancing, scavenger hunts, magical enterprises and most importantly, lots of friends and family.
My idea of a birthday celebration is the sound of the escaping hiss from a single can of beer in an otherwise vacant and monastically enshrouded livingroom. Or on an empty beach. It is in April and usually, that means a cold and rainy and empty beach. Continue reading