Every year for a birthday, if we drop a comment what we want for a meal to my Pops, we'll get that as a meal. This year, however, I really didn't get around to dropping any hints to him, other than Tur-Duck-En (maybe before the year's end). Instead, he took initiative to start preparing ribs, and in all my years my dad has made amazing ass ribs, though I think mine give his a run for the money.Oddly, when time came to start prepping the meal, we opted for going out instead. Call me crazy, but I just wanted to be out of the house on my birthday. The restaurant of choice was Olive Garden. Meal of choice was a chicken alfredo pizza. If you haven't dabbled with that one yet, I suggest you do so; you will not be dissappointed.
My friend Megan made a comment that she was bummed I didn't do anything for or have a get together for the occasion, but I'm really not that excited about celebrating my birthday as much as in the past. Not that I really dread getting old, but the excitement isn't there. I enjoy other's celebrations at great length, but mine not so much. Not really sure why. Maybe I've just been out of the habit of throwing parties for so long, that I've forgotten how to really get down on my day of birth. Maybe the past few have been accompanied by weird moods and odd self esteem that I don't want the attention.
Not to say I don't enjoy the attention, when given it, or that my birthdays are lame (according to my standards)....
Ah well, I'm losing motivation in this entry. Starting to feel a downer mood go with the words, so it's time to switch gears.
No comments:
Post a Comment