Birthday Bash

The dawn of my 22nd birthday was rung in with a celebration of bells and harps (ok, it was 10 a.m. and I was woken up three times to get sung to over the phone by various loving family members).

For the first time in 11 years and only the second time in my life, my age was a palindrome. And, I felt old. (Is it possible to feel old at such a wonderful age? you ask. Well, yes, it is.)

Because I was now so old, Nick took me out to a delectable traditional French dinner where we drank very old wine (from 2005, so long ago--I was in high school at the time) at Le Petit Robert (translation: "the little robert." i dunno).

The vintage wine was paired with, as you can see above, real French bread and butter (I'm quite sure the butter was made from French cows, though whether they imported the cows or the butter itself, I can't be sure). For l'entree, I ordered le saumon avec du brocoli, des carottes, et des pommes de terre, all severely sauteed in a smattering of delicious French butter. [sidenote: how is it that the French are so thin and eat so much delicious French butter? It must be calorie-free French butter]. Nick had le swordfish.

At the end of the meal, which was concluded by a profiterole in ice cream savagely covered in a deluge of chocolate sauce, I licked my spoon clean, smacked my lips, and tipped my head back to suckle the last drop from the bottle of Chanteduc wine from the Cotes du Rhones before groveling to the back kitchen to beg for more.

Before my poor mother faints at the horror of such une enfant impolie, let me say that this is not actually what happened, although it is very close the the reality of what I was dreaming at the time. The meal was delightfully vrai francais, as the bill was sure to remind us, and I couldn't have been happier sharing it with anyone else. Thank you Nick : )


After dinner, Nick and I met up with the other guys from Project Blue Book and some friends at King's cosmic bowling alley/pool tables bar/restaurant/lounge for some good old fashioned fun, where I failed yet again to break 100 in a game of bowling, twice. woo.

All in all, it was a mature evening that only an elderly 22-year-old could appreciate, to be sure. It really couldn't have been better.