So, on Friday I turned the big 32. 32. Ah, that sounds old. At least my life plan, I made for myself fifteen years ago, is working out perfectly.
1. Wearing an apron every day and asking, "Do you want bacon or sausage with that?" - Check.
2. Living in a 1 bedroom apartment with a hot guy. - Check.
3. Having no sight of children. - Check.
4. Mildly healthy gums. - Check.
(I didn't set very high standards for myself. It was the mid 90s.)
Okay, seriously my birth day (yes, two words) was awesome. And here's the pictures to prove it.
First, I woke up at 6:15 and was unable to go back to bed. I'm not sure if I was just excited for my birthday, or I'm now so old, I'm incapable of sleeping in. Do I get to start watching Matlock?
After breakfast, I read for awhile and then drove up to Malibu for a ride up in the mountains.
Here's some pictures of my ride and views. 2 Hours, 1,600 feet climbed and 3 snakes spotted.
And then, because I'm old, after my ride I got a massage. I don't know about you, but whenever I get a massage I always have two thoughts, ONE: "This feels so good that I don't even care if he beats children after work, I really think I'm in love with this man." No? Just me? TWO: "Sure, I'm in love with this man and his hands, but do I really need to tip him 50%?" (Honestly, what is that about? All over the room are signs that read: "Tipping Recommendations" - which mind you, recommend about $30.00 for a $47.00 massage. I mean, this is good, but he's not giving me the secret to life.)
Once the tipping quandary was crossed, the husband and I went to dinner at Bandera. (Please said with a creepy Spanish accent.) What can I say? I thought I had experienced my best meal last year at Mastros, but this was unbelievable. Ribs, chicken, slaw, cornbread, cobbler - my mouth is watering as I write this. Honestly, this restaurant makes me want to live to see my 33rd birthday...and become ridiculously rich, so I can casually say to the husband on Tuesday night, "Hey what about swinging over to Banderas?"