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 awesome  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.

Posted in Me


  1. PeeWee

    Gimme a W. Gimme an E. Gimme an N. Gimme a D. Gimme a Y.
    What’s it spell? WENDY! Louder…WENDY! One more time…WENDY!!
    Happy Birthday, Wendy!

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