Yesterday was my birthday, and honestly I wasn't that excited about it. The idea of actually being 60 (and it freaks me out to even WRITE that number) seems so NOT ME. I know it is all about how you feel, not whatever the calendar tells you, and I always generally hear that I look and act much younger than other people my age, but just seeing that NUMBER is not a happy thing.
My birthday, though, was incredibly happy. I guess it started Friday with coffee with my good friend Lauren--we're both so busy it is hard to find time to catch up, but we did. She is an inspiration--a well known author who publishes literary nonfiction and just finished this amazing book about a recent project (I'll tell you more when it is published, as it is her story, not mine). Anyway, she is off to Vienna and then Greece for a month so it was great to catch up.
Sunday we had dinner at a lovely little restaurant called Cioppino House (it isn't open on Mondays). It is an 8 table restaurant where the husband cooks and the wife waits tables and it was amazing. I had cioppino (I mean, you have to, right?) and Tim had scallops and we had chocolate mousse for dessert.
Yesterday--I woke up to cards and chocolates from the dogs, then went to work (Mondays are busy teaching days). One of my PhD students took me out for a mocha, and I got a lot done. I got home and Tim made potstickers for dinner. And there were these:
So maybe 60 isn't too bad. Maybe.