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So the weather didn't screw us too badly, the food and the booze were good and plentiful, there was occasional dancing, and my husband conspired with my sister to produce sinfully gorgeous deserts from our favorite place in the general area, including a cake decorated with a nod to his and mine ancient history together. We even had an unexpected, wasn't-on-the-guest-list guest drop by.

I am officially a year older. 35. The age that gets one that coveted designation at the OB's, the kind all the cool girls are after. Advanced maternal age. Yeah, baby.

I am actually mostly joshing there. I sort of expected that I would feel the birthday as a threshold, that it would inspire some kind of contemplation from me, a reflection. That I would feel it deeper than I seem to be feeling it, I guess. So far, though, not so much. I think I like it this way.

Of course, the fact that my grandmother had a minor heart attack in the early hours of Saturday probably contributed to the lack of idle contemplation, brain cells being busy with actual things to worry about and all. She was airlifted to a big hospital, where they got the stent in. She's occasionally cognitively better, recognizing people and inquiring after others (like me), and occasionally worse, as the last of the anesthesia leaves the system and as they are trying to get her new medications right. Overall, not a bad way to have a heart attack, and a definite proof that it's a good thing she's not at home anymore-- we collectively shudder to think of what the same scenario would've looked like had her home health care aids not recognized the signs and hadn't acted quickly enough.


As for the celebration itself, it was just right in tone. The big deal meter hovered comfortably in my safe zone-- well short of either pompous or overly sentimental, but unmistakably in the we're here because of you range. Like I said, just right.

Tell you what, though. I may be older now, but I also have better toys. You know, as a direct result of telling husband exactly what I wanted getting older. Waaay nice toys. My precious.

Sadly, operating my precious seems to require actual skillz, or, at the very least, time invested into reading the crammed little multi-lingual booklet that came with. But since I wasn't bloody likely to read it at the party, I just went ahead and played with it a bit. Here's what I managed to get, in the presentable category:

I'd say that while the subject needs improvement, I really like the resolution and the detail. And this is just fooling around. I can't wait to figure out how to actually drive this here fancy sports car.