Yesterday I turned 29 years old. I don’t understand what the big fuss is about aging; I’m not scared of 30 or anything. I mean, aside from the part where your body eventually stops working and you die, I don’t see what’s so awful about getting older. Somewhere around 23, my life starting getting a lot more fun, although, frankly, 28 turned out to be a pretty messed up year, and I was very eager to have it behind me.
As far as birthdays go, 29 took the cake, even though there was no actual cake, but lots of dim sum and champagne and pizza and rice krispie treats. It was surprise after surprise, from when I woke up until I went to bed. Seriously, everyone I know, near and far, managed to go out of their way to give me one of the best days of my life, and I feel really loved, and really lucky.
Also, I got to drunk drive a pirate ship.
If you want to see pictures (and hear the story about how I got my middle name), check out the set on Flickr.
If I know you, thank you for being awesome!