Officially I am now 38, in fantasy land I am 35 and to strangers who see me sans makeup and work clothes I am probably 12. Let’s just say that the closer I get to 40 the more delusional I seem to get because while I welcomed 30 with open arms and a countdown I am not feeling 40.
I got to say though, this past weekend was great. I highly recommend taking off the Friday and Monday around your birthday. I am still dragging a bit but I am going to blame the old age for that one.
Thursday night was spent on the road with the Queen barreling down 75 to Atlanta. Sister cracks me up. We went to Atlantic Station, a nice mix of food and shops where we met a fabulous girl working a boutique who is headed to NYC for her dream soon. So jealous of her moving to NYC as well as the fearless leap she is taking with this dream. We also hit up Strip–Steak & Sushi. Let’s just say that in my foodie little world, this was just to die for because everything I tasted was wonderful!
Friday was spent wandering around Atlanta while the Queen was at a luncheon. IKEA! was the first place I hit and again, it didn’t disappoint. I browsed around, picked up a few things, drooled over a few things and then hit the cafe. As I was getting a refill a cute boy with long hair (this would be my high school self drooling) smiles so I smile back. As I was leaving the cafe to get my cart and finish my whirlwind tour of IKEA! he says hi, asks what I am doing and what I am doing later. When I said I was heading back to Nashville he asked if I would sit and talk with him for a bit. Besides the fact I was beet red, shocked that he was flirting with me and of all places for this to happen, IKEA! I was more concerned with my shopping.
You heard that right, instead of sitting down for thirty minutes to chat with a cute boy I said I had to finish my shopping. This would be my version of “I carried a watermelon.” And again, people wonder why I am still single? Then I promptly updated my FB status with this little gem because I had to remember this for posterity’s sake.
After hitting up Atlantic Station one more time I finally made it back to where the Queen was to pick her up and then we were barreling back up 75 to Chattanooga to pick up my car. The drive to Nashville was quick until I hit traffic before Murfreesboro. One of the many wrecks in Nashville for the night. The boy and I had reservations at Miel for 7:15 and I still needed to slap some makeup on and change clothes. I did manage to make it to his place at 6:29, ran in and heard him mumbling something about you’re a girl when I said I would get ready quickly.
Dude, I got ready in no time flat and was still waiting on him to get changed. But let’s just say I enjoyed the whole cowboy boots that he was wearing. I couldn’t stop giggling and I think I finally stopped when he gave me the “it’s not that funny” look when I asked if I could call him cowboy. Maybe that is why he is listed in my phone as Sour Puss. . .
Miel was beyond ridiculously good. I finally understood how the rat felt in Ratatouille and yes, I just referenced a rodent in a cartoon. Two nights, two great meals. I can feel the fat growing. . .
Saturday was a blur of exercising, meeting up with a very sweet friend, shopping with the boy, eating at another French restaurant and then to cap off a great day in the city I call home, dinner with four fab friends. And way too much food. But just for giggles I got sung to by the staff (while a napkin was over my head, I was red then too) while our chef was banging on a drum. Good times.
After spending a bit more time in Nashville on Sunday I reluctantly came back here and was lectured by a certain cat named Wookie. He is never happy when I am not in his presence.
Today I slept in and then heard my phone go off way too many times with notifications of birthday wishes on FB. After lunch with the parental unit, shoe shopping and getting my hair done, I am finishing up laundry and then will take these old bones to bed.
What a birthday weekend, so blessed, thankful and full of delusion because there is no way I am 38. That just seems. . . wrong.