I decided having an August birthday is pretty lame. All the rest of my peers have already had their birthday so I'm one of the very last people to join their age group. This is especially true since Jason is 2 months older than me, so my new age is old news.
Nevertheless, I had a lovely birthday. Jason went above and beyond in making me feel special and I got a bit weepy on him at dinner. It was appropriate because I find that the older I get, the more likely I am to cry at sappy things. I do believe this is one thing no one ever told me about aging.
We kicked my birthday off early on Monday with a Death Cab for Cutie concert. Death Cab represents so many good things in my teenage and college years and it was surreal to finally see them in the flesh. I was a bigger fan in their early years, so I was a bit surprised to see how thin Ben Gibbard was. I was expecting a kind of shy, timid, chubby guy, but instead he was lean and limber and dancing all over the stage. I couldn't help but think of Zooey Deschanel the whole time. Does she like the way he dances? Do they dance together in their kitchen? Does he sing this song to her? Does he play the piano and she sings? What a fan girl I am.
Now I have to confess, my pictures are pretty terrible. My friend was borrowing my new Canon, so all I had was my ol' HP camera. Bless its heart, it doesn't shine during such low light occasions, but in a way, the pictures are more unique because of it. At least that's what I tell myself.
Benny boy at the piano
My hair goes through stages and right now, it is in the wispy stage. As in, I have a bunch of shorter hairs around my face that refuse to cooperate. I'm telling you all this to make you terribly, terribly jealous.
All in the all, the concert was really good. I wish they would have played more of their older songs, but watching Ben on the stage by himself playing an acoustic "I'll Follow You Into the Dark" was enough to make me a happy girl.
On my actual birthday, Jason made me breakfast, hid presents around the house throughout the day, and then took me to The Melting Pot for dinner. My husband, who wears socks with holes in them because he doesn't want to buy new ones, who orders off the dollar menu when we get fast food (which has thankfully been very infrequently lately), and who buys one pair of shoes every 2 years and wears them until they fall apart. Needless to say, it was a treat for both of us.
Here we are, in our little private booth.