blue artichoke

Having a Valentine birthday has worked out well for me because I don’t like birthdays, and Valentine’s Day takes the focus off of my advancing age. When I was single, it was a diversion for my single friends and me. Who needs a love interest when there’s birthday cake? It was kind of an awkward holiday when I was dating; a Valentine and birthday puts a lot of pressure on a guy, but at least all the mandatory celebrations were taken care of in one day. And now that I’m married, GC and I split up the festivities. I cook a fancy dinner for him on Valentine’s Day, which means that I get to spend the day doing something I love, and get to avoid the long waits, rushed dinner, harried service and subpar food on the busiest day of the year for restaurants. (Note: If you couldn't make dinner reservations at your favorite fancy restaurant, try White Castle.) Then later in the week or month, he takes me out to a special dinner at a place of my choosing or we celebrate with friends. As I said, I don’t really like birthdays (well, mine in particular), so last year I tried to plan a surprise birthday party for myself – with the surprise being that only I knew it was a birthday party. We made plans to go bowling with friends, but GC spilled the beans and there were cupcakes and maybe a little bit of singing. This year, I’ve decided to publicly acknowledge my birthday. I’m thirty.

I started the festivities this morning on a sugar-high from three (one for each decade) Krispy Kreme doughnuts. GC was home sick from work this morning, so got to share breakfast with me. I have leftover pizza and breadsticks scheduled for lunch. It will be a gluttonous day. I shouldn't be alone in this; you should help me celebrate turning 30. Go to the nearest Food City and pick up a piece of birthday cake at the bakery counter. Order dessert. Eat something sinful and decadent.

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