Despite unofficially ringing in my birthday at 12:01 a.m. while celebrating St. Patrick’s Day at Tony Jaro’s River Garden this morning, it’s now that I’m officially 29, or maybe 29 years and 2 hours. I always forget. Honestly, this birthday doesn’t feel any different than the last four or five birthdays.
On my home last night/this morning, I started composing a post about how the first three hours of my birthday-day were awesomeÂ A trip to Jaro’s, followed by venturing over to The Otter, capped off with cheeseburger and fries at Santana’s? I can’t imagine how else it should have started.
More about my awesome weekend later. I’m still tired. And hungry. And awesome. Not too bad for 29.