Re-hash birthday bash

Let's talk about my birth, baby. Let's talk about you and me.
Let's talk about all the good things and the bad things that may be.

Technically, I was born on the 15th, but don't think I didn't celebrate on the 14th and 16th as well.

Thursday was magical.

A pumpkin spice latte and vanilla scone sat patiently on my desk as I shuffled into work. I perked up at the sight of my treats because A. René knows me all too well and 2. Starbucks is a delicacy in these parts.

I rushed home from work that evening to fancy myself for dinner with Chris when he presented me with the first part of my birthday gift.



A Betsey Johnson owlie to keep lovingly around my neck.

This gift is an example of what dropping hints and having a cute obsession can get you. I suppose I can also credit my attentive husband. Thank you, oh precious lover of my soul.

Still no hug from Drew Brees, but there's always Christmas.

Fast-forward to Thursday night during dinner and to my second husband-gift for the evening: two Friday passes to Voodoo Fest next weekend. Does this guy know me or what? Muse and Weezer in the same town on the same day at the same place and I'm going to miss it? No ma'am.

Later that evening, we headed to the airport to pick up my nephew who was flying in to visit my sister's dad for the week. Let me tell you that this kid is seven and flew all by his little self from Colorado to Louisiana. What an independent little bad-a.

The parents decided to make an appearance in the greater NOLA area for my birthday weekend, but I think Jackson was the main cause.

Nevertheless, Friday was quite the event as we took advantage of the weather and I took advantage of my day off.

French Quarter stroll, brunch, Aquarium, Zoo, dinner, oatmeal-cake-eating on a rooftop terrace.

A well-rounded celebration, if I say so myself.

Move to Saturday where precious time was spent with my precious friends, Lane and Jordan. So kind of them to be here and celebrate, making turning older a little less painful and little more memorable.



Please keep in mind that this photo of us sharing a milkshake was after he poured a packet of sugar in his Coke and right before his consumption of a sno-ball.



Little poser.



He said to "tell anyone that I'm your son, if they ask." sorry, sister.



Missing my mum and dad.



Monkeying around. Monkey business. Monkey-see monkey-do. Monkey...I'm all out.



Birthday donut with pink strawberry glaze. You can't blame me.

My parents left with Jackson Saturday morning and Jordan and Lane took off Sunday. Now Chris is gone until next week and all is quiet on the Southern front.

You know that feeling you get after an eventful few days, being surrounded by friends/family, and then they've all left? Hate it.

Luckily, René has picked up where Chris left off and has been my running supervisor.

Chris and I began running together a couple weeks ago and boy do I feel sorry for him.

Tennis, golf, basketball, I can do. Throw a ball my way and I know what to do with it.
Soccer and running are Chris' sports and it's a bit hard to keep up with someone who was a former track and cross-country star. But by-gosh, he's there, one step behind me, probably giving me some kind of look that says "my God, why did I agree to this?"

In his absence, I've also found comfort in a new book:




It's an Eat, Pray, Love-ish account of the author "test-driving" a variety of ways to improve her life and reach a higher levelof happiness. But instead of uprooting her life to globe-trot and find serenity in pasta, she searched for ways to make changes in her day-to-day, right where she was.

The author wasn't depressed, and neither am I. Just interested in learning how to "look for happiness under my own roof" and take advantage of what I've been given.

Lord knows I don't want to wake up one day and say,

"What a wonderful life I've had! I only wish I'd realized it sooner."
(Colette)

- Posted from my awesome iPhone