This past Sunday I turned 31. Most of my previous birthdays have revolved around my crying like a small child, lamenting the passing of years and generally throwing tantrums that rival anything I did as a “terrible two”.
In the years past, my husband has watched me cry and fling myself through every wonderful meal that he has treated me to celebrate. I have, as such, enjoyed tears and pork, tears and pasta, just tears....
I did not have high hopes for this year. I was especially feeling the gloom and doom set in when I went to buy a birthday outfit and was force fed the idea of a crop top by an overly smiley sales person. Crop tops- the bane of my adult existence- like the blue lips of Ke$ha, the half shaved head and ombre pink hair that I so wish was popular in my heyday. What sis I get other than T shirts as dresses and a mullet... But I digress....
So, upon even hearing the word crop top, I panicked. Panicked for my age, panicked for my sanity and prepared myself emotionally for a roller coaster of a weekend. I did so in vain.
Instead of the output of unnecessary emotions, I only felt 2. Joy and gratitude. Basically the opposite of the past 30 years of my life.
Friday at work I was treated to a little décor and a whole bowl of fresh berries (my co-workers know me well) and my night consisted of going out with my in-laws for 1 of 3 dinner extravaganzas.
Dear Frank’s Kitchen, you are yummy. Less the neurotic host who seemed like he was going to just lie down and die when we had to wait 5 minutes for our reservation due to some confusion with the tables, the experience was amazing. I had the most delicious pickerel fish dish with razor clams, scallop and some kind of fish cake which I let my husband pick at. Fish cakes, the Buffalo of seafood. I have never gotten on board with these creations. It tastes like canned tuna heated up/ aka not delicious.
Saturday night my hubs treated me to a dinner at Ursa (easiest way to my heart is through good food). It was just F-ing delicious. Our server was cute, the drinks were plentiful and my rainbow trout was just insane.
We spent the remainder of the night there with friends who came to meet us and proceeded to drink as if I were turning 21 instead of 31.
Suffice to say, I was not thrilled to have y alarm go off the next morning, my real birthday, at 7:30am. Hangovers physically hurt me.
We spent the day hosting a brunch which was exactly, precisely, definitely how I wanted to spend my day- sarcasm is not present in any of these words. I took a moment to step back nd look around this room filled with my friends, my hubs friends, our family, little people who belong to the friends and family, and I felt like the luckiest 31 year old on the planet. I love feeling loved (who doesn’t?) and I would say that this day certainly delivered that and then some.
Once most of our friends left, we spent the afternoon playing board games with a few remaining people and by the time I blinked, it was dinner.
My parents, who rounded out our company for dinner #3, are dificult to eat with. Not because they are picky or weird but they are kosher and my mom, much like me, has 4 million allergies to everything. Having had a disastrous meal there for my 29th birthday, it was with great apprehension that I chose Woodlot for the meal. All things aside, Woodlot does a great job offering amazing vegetarian food- I figured with all things considered, that was a good choice.
I wish I could say that my mind was blown and that I fell in love with the place. The meal was great and obviously the company was fun but I can safely say now that I would not make an effort to return. After such a crap time 2 years ago, I needed to have a mouth-gasm to make me love again. Let’s say I have forgiven the past but left it at a civil/ polite relationship.
All in all, I spent my last precious birthday hours in a state of glee. If this is any indication of how 31 will be- I can anticipate a year of great food, friends, love and celebrations with amazing, wonderful people. And hey, even a cray cray like me cant complain about that.
Xo
Jane.
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