Weekend Wrap Up: Birthday Business

I turned nearly-old on Saturday; twenty nine.

I'm over it.

But for Corey that means he only has one more year that he can say his wife is in her twenties.

...

He's over it.

...

To celebrate we had a most fantastic weekend.

I think I said the last weekend was the best in recent memory (recent being a span of just months, I have a terrible memory) but this past one has surpassed it, despite the weekend starting with news of JLo and Marc Anthony splitting.

Seriously, if Jen and Marc can't make it, who can?

If Will and Jada ever head for their attorneys don't even expect to see my face for at least three weeks.

But I digress.

The plan was to spend the day in NYC, the night in our favorite little village, Tarrytown, and return Sunday afternoon.

But this is what actually happened:

(i spent most of Friday night, also the dog's birthday, at a going-away party, the following conversation took place Saturday morning)

"Beetle, you missed all of Bro Wolf's* birthday."

"I know, but he's a dog and I don't think he realized it was his birthday."

"I had to stay with him.  I got him a steak, and you didn't come home."

"Sorry.  But Jeff is leaving on Sunday and I wanted to say good bye."

"But it was Bro Wolf's birthday."

"..."

"And then since I didn't hear from you I figured I might as well go out too and I had two beers and now I have a headache."

He was pretty upset over the way the whole night turned out.  So we called off the weekend and spent the day in Saratoga.

Which was just fine with me.

Save six hours of driving time, a ton of money for the room, a ton of money for gas and tolls, a ton of money for expensive NYC food, etc.  It would have been nice to get away, but our hometown is pretty nice already, there isn't much anyone would want to get away from.

So we started out with a birthday tour of the farm.

Corey's friend's horse farm where we met the residents. 

Who were quite hospitable.  Oh how I love horses.

Then it was off to birthday estate sale where I picked up a lovely old window shutter for $1.  My dear, sweet, "clutter-is-my-number-one-enemy" husband doesn't yet understand my need for random "junk."

He sees junk.  I see an earring rack.

Then it was birthday lunch time.

I tell you what, anyone that gives me crab, onion rings and deviled eggs all on one plate is my new best friend.  I don't know the name of the head chef, but if he were in need of a kidney...I'm just sayin'.

Next up: birthday shopping to use all that money we saved by not going to the city.  Being the super savvy shopper that I am, I walked out of Banana Republic with $300 in merch for only $75.  Unfortunately, Corey was not agreeable to my idea of using the remainder of the money we saved at the estate sale.

But that did not stop the day!  Oh no, up next was birthday nap, directly followed by birthday Queen special on the Bio channel and birthday steak sandwich.  After the birthday sandwich came birthday ice cream topped with chocolate everything and more birthday shopping.

This was followed by birthday sidewalk chalk art,

birthday entertainment,

and birthday drinks at our favorite restaurant's back patio.

It was lovely.

But after an hour or so I was ready for the next plan, birthday movie, but Corey wasn't letting us leave.

"I'm ready to go."

"Ok, just hang on a second."

"But I'm ready."

"Just hang on.  Frank is getting me a menu."

(we had already eaten, but were planning on having breakfast there the next day)

"You mean the same menu we already looked at online??"

"...no, a different menu.  Just hold on, ok??"

After a few more minutes of agitation Frank, the bartender, walks out with my birthday surprise: a fancy dessert with fancy writing and a candle.

It was delish.

And then it was birthday bedtime.  Because after all of that I had nothing left to give.  Not to a birthday movie, not to birthday cookies, not even to birthday Matlock.  But that is the best way to end the day, completely exhausted and satisfied.

...

*Bro Wolf is what Corey calls Oliver.  It's shortened from Brother Wolf, which probably makes even less sense, but now you know.