Golden

Yesterday was my "Golden Birthday." I felt metallic and glowing all day. 19. Woo.

I woke to a phone call from Dad telling me he was outside the door and a warm car was waiting for me. I don't think I even opened my eyes between getting out of bed and walking out the front door. The kitchen met me with warm smells; the ones that make you feel cozy inside without even tasting a bite. We had apple pancakes with warm, homemade syrup. Yum.

Michelle came with me to do a few birthday errands and then we picked up my sister and surrogate sister and went to lunch. We dawned our XL eternal free specialty drink shirts and were sat in the garden room where the walls are flanked with ferns and lovely green things to make you feel a little bit alive amidst the world outside that's the color of concrete. Our waiter's name was Diego. I called him Diablo by mistake and felt like a gargantuan retard, but he got tipped well.

I am decidedly in love with chips and salsa, Diablo Rojo (the specialty drink, not the waiter), enchiladas, XL shirts, and spending time with my sisters. We laughed through the entire hour and then they laughed at me while I had the all-too-embarrassing Los Hermanos Birthday singing to. Diego did a grand job at yipping and yelling and I felt like the embarrassment was payback for the name slip. . .

Lunch was followed by an extremely fruitless shopping experience with Dad and Mom, but I left with an IOU which is just as well. We'll venture out tomorrow in search of the perfect wish-list items.

When I got home, I found my room decorated with nineteen paper 19s and my bed filled with 19 candy bars. The roommates were still bustling around the kitchen and continuing to keep me thoroughly out of the loop. I wasn't allowed behind the wood and Plexiglas door since I opened my eyes that morning, and with all the commotion and giggles that eeked from under the door, my curiosity and excitement were peaked. Around 6:30 Roommate came in, told me to put on my golden robe adorned with 19 ribbons (precariously perched and placed bows . . . they think they are just so funny). They then bestowed 19 pieces of gold jewelry around my neck and wrists and I think I might have residual damage to my vertebra.

We got in the car and they pulled out a CD that contained the number one hit single from each year of my life. I think Vogue by Madonna must have affected my 2 year old brain in diverse ways. We showed up at Pizzeria Seven Twelve (7 + 12 = 19) which is organic and fresh and yummy. The roommates made me a few books. One of memories, quotes and pictures (19 of each of course) and a book of 19 adjectives and 19 abstract representations of my attributes (they said they must really love me for stooping so slow as to watercolor for me. Boy do I love them). After a long dinner of chatting and laughter, basil and fennel pizza, salad with roasted squash, Gorgonzola, pecans, and probably 19 glasses of water. . .we hopped in the car and headed to 27 Dresses at 10 (2 + 7 + 10 = 19).

The night ended with cake (with 19 colors of frosting paint daubs on a big palette shaped cake) and then a stop by Jamie's.

So far, 19 has been pretty great.