where wildly different is perfectly normal
They say it’s your birthday…
They say it’s your birthday…

They say it’s your birthday…

Well, it was. I was out having fun yesterday on the big day and didn’t get to write a big Happy Birthday to myself. So…

Happy Birthday to me!

A kept asking me how old I was. My answer was always “29 with experience.” He wasn’t buying it. Bless the little darling, he yelled out, “NO! You’re 33!” in the middle of the Denver International Airport. Sweet little thing.

But it was a good day. Tom and I went out with my parents to a Moroccan restaurant in Boulder. Shoes off, sitting on the floor on pillows, eating with only our fingers…my kind of restaurant with the three people I knew would enjoy it the most. YUM.

And last but certainly not least, my big thanks to my mom for having me. Yeah, dad had something to do with it too, but let’s face it…mom carried me for 9/10 months, through the summer months, in eastern Tennessee. She deserves a medal. Pregnant in the summer is nasty, pregnant in the summer in east Tennessee is cruel. So thanks mom.

So now I have 5 days until Tom’s 40th birthday. {big evil grin here} He’s a damn young looking 40 year old so he has nothing to worry about. It’s all good.

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