On Turning 32

I turned 32 this weekend. It was for the most part a pretty unremarkable event. There is no real numerical significance to the number 32 as far as I know. About the most exciting thing about turning 32 was that my birthday fell on a Friday.

I used the date to my advantage. I met up with a friend whose birthday is just a few days after mine. Well her and a whole gaggle of her female friends. We drank a lot of red wine, and they ordered me a slice of coconut cake with a candle in it.

I woke up on Saturday to photograph a charity fundraiser for Project Rescue, and then my parents came into town. We all headed out to an early dinner that night at a local creole joint. And I mean it was early. We originally had a reservation at 8, but decided to move that to 6 since we were all so hungry. Thank goodness we did because I was a lot more tired than I thought. I was on the couch and dozing off to football by 9 p.m. So please don't ask my parents if I am a great host. I am not. But I was so excited to go to bed that night because my and Mike's bed finally had a proper headboard and was on a bed frame, not the floor.

Thanks Mike and Dad!

So I guess if I can say anything about 32, it's that I am glad I have a nice bed now because apparently 32-year-olds need their sleep. Also, dogs that spend all weekend wrestling with each other.