25.

Twenty-five.


25.


Two. Five.


So here it is.


My birthday weekend was delightful, with old and new friends visiting from DC. Ashlee (who is making a run at most NYC visits to the Riley ghettostead), Ali and Joy came for a weekend of thrifting, NYC sites, a visit to the temple and funky vegetarian mediterranean food.


Thanks to their knowledge of all the good flea markets and their sweet generosity, the piece of mirror I got out of the garbage four months ago (I knew there was a frame out there waiting) now has a frame. And I now have ideas... Expect this project to make a few blog appearances and please disregard my leg in the reflection:

My actual birthday came and went a little more quietly than in years past (except last year, when I was alone in a hotel room in Charlotte. Or the year before that when Noah was in Minneapolis so my mom and I got a pizza and rented New York Doll. So maybe this is a trend...?), when our day filled up with the usual and some extra Sunday meetings. But I got what my sisters with kids say they wish for every year - a completely quiet afternoon to myself.

It was the perfect day in NYC, the kind of day where it's a shame to ride underground. So after bidding farewell to our weekend guests at Penn Station, I decided to walk home along 8th Avenue and enjoy the city.

Three blocks into my walk, I passed Gilbert Gottfried. Is it ironic or just sad that no lie - two days previous - I had Iago's lines from Aladdin stuck in my head? I'm afraid I'm revealing too much...

Shortly after the celeb spotting, 8th Avenue was closed to traffic for a huge street carnival. I didn't see any banners or signs or anything, but I'm pretty sure this was in my honor.

I walked until 86th, when the ice cream I knew was at home in the freezer became too much to resist (another birthday miracle: Blue Bunny Ice Cream = $2.50). So I ducked into the nearest station and within 15 minutes I was home, in my shorts and favorite t-shirt with a book and a bowl of Rocky Road.

Don't think that's all I did. I also talked to my sisters, straightened up the house and played Scramble on my iPhone. Then when Noah got home I ate another bowl of ice cream while we watched the Office and he gave me a foot massage.

It was the perfect day. And now I think I need one of these low-key birthdays at least twice a week.

I thought I was out of the clear until Noah got a little twitchy smile on Monday evening. He came into my office at 6:00 anxious to see if I was ready to go. I told him I was wrapping up a release and would be just a little while longer and he replied that he'd just start heading home then. Since we're ALWAYS together, this was blatant suspicious activity - prompting this response from me:

"Oh, crap. On my ugly day?"

I should work on my gratitude, but truthfully - Monday was a really ugly day. Earlier that morning, I'd rubbed my right eye with jalapeno hands (oh. my. goodness.) and resorted to glasses once I could finally pry my contact lens from my puffy red eye. Plus, I had become so complacent by Sunday's non-events that I elected for the no-shower Monday. Yeah, you're picturing it.

But surprise he did, and we enjoyed the evening with old friends (=9 months) and new friends (=2 days) and everyone in between.

Welcome, 25.