Sunday, June 10, 2012


So I turned 37 today.  Which is pretty much a big, fat underwhelming.  Unless you're my dad, who seems to think that having an old daughter somehow makes him old.  You remember the transitive property, except instead of triangles we're talking oldness.

Anyway, it was a really good birthday.  Not because I did anything outrageous or got a box of diamonds.  It was just really good.  (Plus, I *am* getting a bike.  Totally Colorado.)

Yesterday we had planned to go up to Mt. Evans and then to show my Dad around around Evergreen.   But the sky decided to throw a bunch of golf balls at the farm, so instead we went to help clean up the yard and cook some caveman steaks and let the girls soak up Boppie's affections while Mima was visiting the baby cousins. 

So today I woke up on the farm, and then we tried to catch some carp in the pond at the bottom of the field (those carp, by the way, were doing back floats and flipping us off in fish, and they did not have any interest in eating the worms or fireballs or flies that we sent their way).  Then we ate our weight at the Armadillo, had a couple of beers and a rousing game of hide-and-seek with Aunt Jessie and came home.

Oh and by the way, our plumbing was out for like three days.  Which sucked.

But it's better now.  And happy birthday to me.  And it was a great one.  One of the best.

Thank you.

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