30, 30, 30.... and dirty, dirty, dirty (sung to the tune of "Rawhide")

Is it still plagiarism if I admit that I stole the above title from the card my MIL made me for my birthday? Do I owe her any royalities? Or could I just have another grandbaby for her as payment?

(No, readers, don't go getting any crazy ideas. I'm definitely not pregnant.... and not really aiming to be real soon, either.)

So, how was my 30th? Did the curtain of the temple rip from top to bottom; and did the earth shake and split in two? No. I still feel like pretty normal person.

I had 8 girls over for cake, chocolate truffles, and champagne (we had four bottles, and went through a conservative 3). I opened some fabulous presents-- including a cigar box purse with an owl bejeweled on it; a bottle of Jameson; a handmade ceramic bracelet; some assorted gift certificates; etc.-- and I did it all while wearing the leopard-print shoes I bought in Chicago a few weeks ago.

Then, most of us went out dancing at a very trashy place (there aren't many places to go dancing here) where we were the least trashy of the crowd. The music wasn't that good, but we had a good time people watching and dancing to the songs that didn't suck. There were only 3 that didn't: "Like a Prayer," "You Shook Me All Night Long," and "Sweet Caroline."

I got home at 2:30 AM, ate a bowl of cereal, visited with my sister and friend who were up for the weekend, and was in bed by 3:00 AM... only to be woken up again at 6:15. (Thank God my sister offered to watch Evan so I could go back to bed!).

(There are pictures-- none incriminating-- which Andrew will eventually post here).