This is my birthday week. That’s right. On Thursday night, I will officially be 28.
I say officially because I’ve thought I was 28 since a month after I turned 27. I don’t know what it was about 27 I apparently found so offensive that I wanted to skip it. Really couldn’t tell you. It seems like a nice number. I have nothing against it. But for some reason, anytime someone asked, my brain kept telling me I was 28.
So apparently I’m going to keep turning 28. And to celebrate, I get to have two fabulous weekends. One involves me driving south to spend three days with this lady. A girls’ weekend has been in order for a while. Like ever since I discovered that she too enjoys the tasty goodness of turkey bacon and possesses a self-depracating sense of humor. And doesn’t judge me for sending her dressing room pics asking for her opinion. And doesn’t even think to question my sanity when I say I see Civil War ghosts.
If you don’t hear from me for a while, it’ll be because we’re too busy having adventures. Or were eaten by alligators. But I’ve promised Beth that if we encounter any alligators, I have no problem convincing said reptile that she’s a much tastier snack. As I take off running. (What? Girl’s got survival instincts, coupled with reptile issues. Don’t judge.)
See ya when I’m 28! (Again.)