So, it’s official-I’m old. You know you’re old when you tell a 20-something you’re 35 and they say, “Wow, you’ve aged well.”
What am I? A fine wine? I suppose there are worse things to be…
Typically, I make a big deal out my birthday. I start planning a month in advance, have a theme, and throw a party. But this year, I was less than excited about turning 35. AND, Biceps had to work on my big day, so I knew I would be celebrating my day-alone. Wah.
And not around my waist. (A girl can dream.)
My BSF partner (in crime) bought me a vegan muffin and skinny hazelnut latte for breakfast, a fabulous lunch, and she willingly colored my hair and cut me some fancy bangs. I felt spoiled and it was awesome.
After a lovely night on the porch with my kitties and birthday wishes from friends, I called it a night. For suddenly becoming 35 over night, it was still a pretty good day…
Happy Birthday to me and God Bless America, all in one.
Biceps went “treat” shopping and he knows what a girl wants, what a girl needs…and she needs options of both sweet and salty, olives and Mike and Ikes, cashews and chocolate. Totally normal, right?
Biceps also made my favorite cake-German Chocolate-to enjoy later in the evening. And yes the candles do read, “Bappy Hirthday” because Biceps thinks he’s hilarious. And he is.
Another lunch out-but this time with Biceps, we partook of aforementioned treats, time on the porch together, and a catnap. After scrubbing the crusties from our eyes, our family and friends who were willing to eat cake and ice cream with me, ventured over to celebrate.
All in all, I suppose 35 isn’t so bad. America! Happy Birthday! Guns and Cake!