I got beautiful pearl earrings for my birthday (it's a big birthday - THREE-ZERO) from my folks this last weekend! Rob and I spent a great few days in Billings where we got to catch up with the friends at whose wedding we met, I didn't just end that tricky sentence with a preposition, and we had a group birthday party for me, B, and R. All our birthdays are within eleven days of each other, and it's Blake's golden birthday - five on the fifth - and my transition into a new decade that starts with three. Kind of a big deal, so I think the pearls are perfectly appropriate and just the right touch of grown-up.
But who are we kidding? I am SO not grown up. I still giggle at toots (well, depends on who and where and how much they offend my poor sensitive schnoz), I refuse to act my age except when feeling prim, and I can cavort with a sparkler JUST like a fairy princess.
Of course, I complain about my poor aching back afterward, so while I am not grown up per se, I am starting to realize that I am OLD. Blerg. Also, I am kind of grown up (case in point: I could write a sonnet about my label maker and how I love it so). How disappointing.
Off to organize my photos so I can get caught up with my scrapbooks. And then I'll get some cats and crochet a doily slipcover for the couch.