Sign of the Times

Do you remember the days of being so excited to go to the bar for your birthday and drink your face off?

I do but it is a far and distant memory, and I was reminded of that memory last night.  Not because I was at a bar for a birthday, but because there was lack of bar at a birthday.

This year I am turning 29.  There.  I said it.  I will be 29.  That is one year closer to 30 and one year further away from 21. Four of my friends were born in the last year of the best decade known as the 70's,  so at least I have some company in turning 29 this year.

My girlfriend went first this week, brave soul.  She celebrated her 'First 29th Birthday Party' at a sukiyaki house in town, with plans to go dancing afterwards.  But when half the guests left to go home to sleep, she turned to us and said, "Do you want to come over and play games instead?"  YES!  Yes, we sure did.  

We went to her home, drank wine, played games and ate chocolate.  We talked and were able to hear each other, and unlike her other birthdays, she didn't moon anyone (don't ask).

I realize I have definitely hit an age where the loud noise and drunk idiocy of a bar is no longer my ideal Saturday night.  I am happy with pizza and some SNL action.  I am in fact happy to stay inside and read my book.  If with friends, then I am more happy to get some nice wine and cheese and talk the night away than do tequila shots.

I am quite happy that I have arrived at this place.  I enjoy my more peaceful weekend evenings.  The Engineer and I discussed if we were missing out on nights of debauchery; but really the only thing we miss is the 3am poutine action.  Perhaps we could just go out for poutine without the bar?  ummm, no, we are sleeping by midnight.

Oh god, maybe I am lame.  Maybe I am actually, dare I say it, older?
Thank god for dyed blonde hair, I suspect I might be grey.

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