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!