A 27th birthday

The last six months I dreaded January 20. I dreaded turning 27. It would tip me on the close side of 30. And oh 30. That’s a real grown-up age. Hell no.

But 27 came and went and I feel no different. No older, no wiser. Well scratch that, I feel much older and wiser now than I did even four months ago. (I don’t want to be negative about the past, but there was a heavy weight bearing down on me for the majority of last year and I’ve felt so incredibly light the last few months. I think I’d forgotten what happy for more than a few days in a row felt like.)

So how did I celebrate? I know you are just dyying to know. I had dinner at my parents’ house. My mom made Oma macaroni. We got a birthday cake from Parcha Sweets, a new and wonderful bakery here in Indianapolis.

Last weekend my friends took me out to dinner to celebrate. Jen and Samantha made the most wonderful caramelized pear and ginger cake. Perfect after our fancy-schmancy dinner at R Bistro.

In non-birthday news, little miss Lola is happily bouncing around the house minus her cone…and one eye. Meow!

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