This week, RP was forced into a terrible realization:
He's married to a 29 year-old.
Notwithstanding my less-than graceful aging, RP was a great supporter of October the 6th. I woke on my birthday to a decorated house, care of RP:
I also found a beautifully-wrapped gift at dinner that night, care of Christmas wrapping paper and Independence Day ribbon:
Inside, however, was nothing to joke about: (he's good at jewelry)
Oh, but later that night, there were more gifts to come (note that the wrapping paper had been a four-pack, but then RP realized he needed something to wrap it with)
Of more exciting note, I received pearls and Cary Grant movies from my family, and Kate Spade china from the Price's. Color me spoiled.
The true birthday star was the black bean chocolate cake we made for the occasion. Legumes and erithrytol has never tasted so good (seriously, it was amazing):
Birthday weekend continued with a trip to Knott's Berry Farm on Saturday. After realizing there were no actual berries there, I quieted my disappointment and enjoyed a day of roller coasters and the realization that I really AM getting super old (read: motion sickness).
Birthday weekend ended with Peruvian lamb stew and seafood soup. Rick ate my mussel because my palette is not yet 29.
Here's to being "mature" (and slightly more wrinkly).
No comments:
Post a Comment