Last week, I turned 28. I made out pretty well, too - an eReader, some cash (specifically earmarked for something for me or I'll have to answer to the lovely women in my family), a bunch of TV on DVD and possibly a hysterical pregnancy. Oh, what was that? You want to know more about that last one? Well, too bad - this is the birthday recap post. I'll talk about the other thing tomorrow.
So, my birthday... It rained. A lot. My mom took Eli overnight which was lovely of her. He still doesn't sleep through the night - or even close - so the idea of so much uninterrupted sleep was a present in and of itself.
Early on, Pete and I had grand delusions of driving into the city and going to a fancy steakhouse but by the time I had driven the baby to my parents' place, driven back to our place, I barely had the energy to shower. By the time Pete got home from work, showered and dressed, it was nearly eight and we just couldn't be bothered. So we went to The Keg instead.
At one point, the waitress checked our bread status (still a bunch there), then took my bread plate and left Pete's. I joked that The Keg was officially deeming me Too Fat For More Bread but since the piece I'd had was enough to satisfy me, I didn't actually care. We never did get our appetizer, which was the first thing to go wrong but really, not a big deal. They offered to bring it out after our entrees had arrived but we passed since we already had steaks in front of us. Of course, it wasn't until after we were alone again that I noticed I'd been given the wrong side dish... but again, not worth quibbling over. Then I took a bite of my steak. Wow. I'll admit that I'm a bit picky with seasoning because I rarely use much salt but this was way, way salty. Inedible, actually. Pete was upset on my behalf because, in his mind, My Birthday Was Ruined, but I assured him that I was still having a good time. I ate my baked potato and a bit of the less seasoned part of the steak, and we ended up having it taken off our bill.
On the way back home, we stopped to get coffees. I'm a sucker for a good latte but don't often indulge because of the price tag. On my birthday, though, I willing to spend the five bucks. Of course, they aren't making gingerbread lattes until next month, so I had to go with a back up choice. Then, their debit machine wouldn't recognize Pete's card. At this point, I was finding it all pretty hilarious while Pete was looking more and more frustrated. Visa came to the rescue, though, and we were off, lattes in hand.
"As long as you don't crash the car on the way home," I joked, "it'll still be a good birthday." Pete said that was coming perilously close to jinxing him but I had confidence in his abilities and we did make it home unscathed, regardless of the rain. Pete kept apologizing about the things that had gone wrong but I told him it was fine, better than fine, funny even. He said he felt bad but eventually I was able to talk him down. We agreed to put it all behind us and enjoy a slice of my specially requested ice cream cake. I ran out to the freezer to bring in the box, opened it up and dissolved into laughter.
It was supposed to look sort of like this...
... but it actually looked like this:
It must have melted when we brought it home the day before and then refrozen because it was still ice cream, just not really cake, at least not in the structural sense. It was kind of a perfect summary of the day, actually - a little crooked, not quite what we'd anticipated and yet still delicious.
And yes, my cake says Bazinga. I got two seasons of The Big Bang Theory, so it was appropriate.