It’s been quite a year ’round these parts.
Not only does today mean I’m firmly “in my thirties,” but it’s also now just over a year since we’ve known Isaac has been a part of our lives.
A year ago, we had a gigantic fete all planned, a large spit rented and an entire pig and large cake ordered. And two days before things were to get underway, fetus-Isaac and my stupid body conspired to make me the sickest I’ve ever been.
Too late to turn back (and with a hog on ice in my bathtub), we soldiered on. One trip to the hospital for IV fluids and industrial-strength Gravol later, we had roast pig and a house full of friends bearing delightful gifts of liquor that would sit, sad and neglected, for the next 8-ish months.
It was a pretty big year in other ways, too. I had the best meal of my life (I keep meaning to tell you about it! Soon! Maybe my next post!), saw both my little brothers and some very good friends get married, ate an entire lamb (not all at once), welcomed baby Isaac to the outside and took him on his first vacation, and saw friends’ families gain, and unfortunately lose, some excellent humans.
We don’t have big plans to do anything specific to mark the day, though we did head to Denny’s for my free birthday breakfast, and I’ve got ambitions to wander over to Starbucks for my free birthday beverage later. I also believe there will be cake at some point.
But I have never needed a specific day an an excuse for merriment, presents and cake!
So Happy Birthday, self! Here’s to another 31 years of adventure, and at least 31 more after that.