Thursday, I turned 38. Thirty eight. Thirrrrttttyyy eeigggghhht. It just doesn't sound right. I keep saying it to myself, but it just doesn't sit well with me. I don't feel 38. Well, maybe somedays, when I wake up and my knees crack and my back is sore and I have huge black circles under my eyes. Other days, I feel like I'm 28. Other days I feel like I'm 8, and I probably act that way. Whatever.
It is somewhat of a tradition in recent years that on my birthday it will rain. OR, that it will look like a rainy, miserable excuse for a day when we wake up, we will cancel our plans and make new indoor plans, and then the clouds will part, and the sun will shine gloriously for the remainder of the beautiful day that we spend inside. This year, the second one happened. We planned to go to Idlewild. We went to The Children's Museum, and spent the day inside while the sun shone gloriously outside. Whatever.
We still had a great time, and we're planning to do Idlewild another day. But, I won't say when, because then it will rain... or just look like it until we change our plans.
(*The picture on the bottom right, is what my husband would look like pregnant. I know you were all wondering!)
(*Oh, and my parents showed up, and the 3 of us were all wearing cranberry colored shirts, and beige shorts. Weird, huh?)