I was talking to my cousin two weeks ago about our upcoming birthdays (we are a week apart) and she very rudely informed me that I was not turning 38, but that in fact, I was actually turning thirty NINE. I was so upset! This entire past year I have been telling people that I was 37 years old.
I forgot my age.
Don’t pretend that you haven’t done it, too.
I remember when I turned 29. That was a rough year as well. I’m not sure what the deal is with nine’s. “Nine” sounds old. It sounds like it’s the end of something where “Oh’s” sound new. Twenty-nine bothered me but thirty did not. So this year, I am thirty NINE and it sounds SO DANG OLD.
It is the end of an era. The end of a decade. The end. Holy shit, I’m almost forty. When did that happen? Most people consider forty a full-fledged grown up.
I had a really nice day planned today. My family was going to take me to Ruby’s Diner which is located at the end of the pier. I have never eaten there and I figured the boys would get a kick out if. After lunch, we were going to go to the movies with the kids and return to a dinner party with my mom. She was making my favorite (non-sugar-detox) food of chicken crescent roll-up thingy’s (yes, that’s the technical name). Unfortunately, a 7 year old with a stomach virus thwarted my entire plan.
So, here I sit. At home. With a barfing kid. He feel’s terrible. Did you notice him not in the picture above?
My mom and dad did take me to lunch here in town which was awesome since they were serving complimentary champagne!
After lunch we had some ice cream cake and while the 25 guests are not coming to our germy house, my mom still plans on making me my chicken crescent roll thingy’s (with lots of side veggies).
On a bright note, I was able to score Twilight, Breaking Dawn at the Red Box. Score!
I hope everyone else is having a fabulous Saturday!