Friday, August 19, 2011

Celebrating my 21st birthday

Tonight my husband and children took me to Texas Roadhouse for dinner. The Princess takes great and gleeful joy in throwing her peanut shells on the floor, treating it as if it's an Olympic event and she is in direct competition with every other table in her line of sight. "My mess is WAY bigger than that guy's!" Yes. Yes it is.
I ate the most perfect filet mignon of my life. Also a loaded baked potato. And approximately 27 of those disgusting sweet fluffy hot rolls with honey cinnamon butter.... Uuuugh.
At the conclusion of this meal, our very lovely waiter appeared at our table with an enormous hot fudge sundae and a SADDLE. And made me sit on the saddle in order to receive said sundae. And led the wait staff in a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday culminating in a shower of salty peanuts over my head.
But here's the important part, you guys: as he drew the crowd's attention to me (seated on a saddle, remember) he announced, in his booming circus announcer voice, before dozens of witnesses: "Alyssa is here celebrating her... 21st birthday!"
It's official. They SANG on it. People CLAPPED and I ate ICE CREAM. And would our Texas Roadhouse waiter, I think his name was Ian, would Ian lie to you? Would he?? Of course not!
It's almost 8:30, and I ate a whole lot, so this 21-year-old is thinking about going to bed.


  1. Sweeeet! Happy Birthday my friend. I had to stop going to Texas Roadhouse because of those rolls.

  2. Happy 21st Birthday!!! When you're tired of 21, but not ready for 100, you can be Plenty-nine. Unless your youngest child was born when you were 30 and your oldest was old enough at that point to realize you would always be Youngest Child's age plus 30. Then it's a lost cause until Youngest Child gets old enough to not count his birthdays.


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