Speaking of my birthday and of drinking wine, I woke up on Wednesday morning to find a present at my front door.  My brother, Michael, had left me a bottle of wine, a plastic wine glass to drink on the go and a St. Patrick’s Day cookie.  And the gift came with clear permission to drink before work.  For the record, I didn’t actually drink wine before work, but I did love the surprise.

Dave and I celebrated my birthday night with a fancy dinner out.  I know it was St. Patrick’s Day and all, but I didn’t really feel like eating corned beef and cabbage or getting drunk on green beer with a bunch of wanna-be Irish.  Instead we headed to a new restaurant in our neighborhood, Mexique.  The food was fantastic, and apparently not many other people think of celebrating St. Patrick’s Day with Mexican French fusion food, so we had a quiet table to ourselves all evening.

So, here it is…32.  The number doesn’t bother me, it never really has.  It does, however, seem like I should be a mature and responsible adult by now.  Maybe that’s at 33.  Or maybe that only comes with kiddos.  Or maybe we should all just give up hope on that one!