When I was a kid, for my birthday every year, my mother made me pasta bechamel, which is rigatoni with a white cream sauce.

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.

In childhood, we yearn to be grown-ups. In old age, we yearn to be kids. It just seems that all would be wonderful if we didn't have to celebrate our birthdays in chronological order.

I remember when the candle shop burned down. Everyone stood around singing ’Happy Birthday.’

For my birthday I got a humidifier and a de-humidifier... I put them in the same room and let them fight it out.