The First Day of Year 25

Twenty-five years ago today, at 1:18 a.m., I was born. My poor mother pushed out a 10.5-pound baby, and there I was--looking like a two-month-old in the newborn nursery. 

I love birthdays. Besides the gifts and barrage of friendly texts and phone calls, it's the one day a year I can pull out four magic words--But it's my birthday--and get anything I want (within reason, of course).

So what did I do today, you ask? Well, after church, Jordan and I drove South to meet up with my parents, brother, and sister, who drove North to meet in a small town almost exactly in the middle for fried pies. Since Jordan's birthday is next week, my mom brought gifts for both of us, and we celebrated by opening our presents and eating deliciously bad-for-you fried pies. 

Then Jordan and I drove home and put together the bed frame and nightstands we'd bought yesterday.  

Ah yes, crusty fried pie filling, presents, and not having to use a Bed, Bath & Beyond box as a nightstand anymore.


Happy 25th to me!

Jordan got a few shirts, and I got a dress and purple sweater.