I took J to our neighborhood Italian restaurant tonight. When I thanked him for going with me to celebrate my birthday, he smiled at me and said, "Why, you're very welcome. It was my pleasure." Bwahahahaha, such a little man.

Other than that, the birthday shenanigans were limited to lunch with work-friends and a phone call from The Irishman. So, technically there were no shenanigans at all, if I'm being honest. But this weekend should be fun--dinner with The Irishman followed by a party at the home of this guy from work.

So I made it to 36, which I think is a damn fine number. Persephone, I think you're right about the potential for this year.

But is it a bad sign that The Irishman phoned me from the men's room to wish me a happy birthday?

A question for the ages, that.

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