Yesterday I turned 27 years old.
Now would normally be the time when I lament my age. But to be honest, for the past half a year I had already considered myself 27 in my mind. So now that it's official, it actually just feels like I have a bonus year at the same age. (As a result, 28 will certainly be a shock to the system).
I celebrated with family yesterday, heading home where my mom had prepared one hell of a barbecue, at my request. (This conveniently crosses #25: BBQ off my SFL).
Both my grandma's were in attendance, as were my bro's and parents.
I left so spendidly full, I couldn't have asked for more. Food highlights include, but are not limited to:
1. Buffalo chicken/blue cheese dip my mom made, that I've been craving all day.
2. My grandma's world-famous potato salad.
3. Ceaser hamburgers, which I've also been craving all day.
4. My birthday cake -- Angel Food with lemon icing, an old fave
5. My grandma's strawberry-rhubarb pie, which I've been not-so-subtly requesting for the past couple months. (Worth it!)
In between all the eating, we found time to catch up as we sat outside in the smouldering heat. ("If we're going to complain all winter about the weather, we have to sit outside while it's summer," I argued).
The celebration started with a champagne toast, and ended with cake and presents, like many a good soiree.
Though it feels somewhat outrageous to think I've celebrated my birth 27 times now, ritual is always a good reason to go home and enjoy time with the fam.
Speaking of ritual, click inside for my now-annual just-woke-up-on-my-birthday photo.
Listening to Mumford and Sons