It's my birthday tomorrow. I will be (eep) 31 years old. What the frig? I'm not even sure if I've figured out how to be 30 yet, and here I am, hurtling towards the next year.
Ron and I don't have anything over-the-top planned, but we'll go out for a shmancy dinner on one of the peninsulas (Old Mission or Leelanau) we're fortunate enough to live between. I might even order lobster.
Oh, and just for fun (which it was ... I haven't made a wish list in a looong time), I drew up this short list of little things I've been wanting but, with the baby on the way, feel too guilty buying for myself:
1. Chuck Taylors
2. Sage Burrow Rucksack
3. Lotta Jansdotter's Simple Sewing
4. Pretty perfume oil
I think Ron got me the book; He was acting nervous when I was looking at Amazon yesterday. Crossing my fingers ...
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