I’d like to say thanks to those who left comments on my last post wishing me a happy birthday and/or delurking themselves. (Little known fact: a hobby of mine is delurking someone. Hint: it’s not always such a good thing.) So thank you! I really do have the best blog readers.
But before I go on and write ad nauseum about my birthday weekend, let me clarify something, my last post wasn’t meant to sound sad or nostalgic. I got a few emails afterwards telling me to cheer up. The ironic part is that I was fairly cheerful when I was writing it and that was my attempt at light-hearted humor. #Fail.
Moving on, it was a full birthday weekend! I have no shame in drawing out my inevitable creep towards 30 into 72 awesome hours. You heard me. We celebrated from Friday to Monday. Wait…That’s more than 72 hours. Whatever. You do the math. And I’d like to share some camera phone images of the weekend with you. You’re welcome.
On Friday night, we went to the theatre. The Municipal Theatre was showing a ballet titled 30 y Tres Horas Baraccompanied with music from Chile’s Los Tres. It was my first time in the theatre and I loved it. I love old buildings, but I love them even more when they are well-maintained like the theatre obviously was.
I <3 the theatre boxes. The ballet was great, even if it was a bit contrived to fit Los Tres’ music. Very Mamma Mia-esque, sans the cheesy dialect.
After the ballet, we stopped off for a chorillana. It *may* have been my idea. For the uninitiated, a chorillana is a mountain of french fries, fried eggs and onions, sausage, and steak. It is a veritable heap of fat and cholesterol with little redeeming nutritional value. Yes, this is coming from the same person who lived a nearly vegan existence in Texas. Qualifier: I still don’t like to cook meat. I’m never going to say something like, Well, I’m going to whip me up a heart attack on a plate. However, I will eat it if offered (usually), or if someone else cooks it. Call me a flexitarian.
Last night, on my actual birthday, not my pre-birthday, we went to a Peruvian restaurant called El Otro Sitio. It was worth it for the pisco sour alone.
There must have been a secret ingredient – LIKE CRACK – that they added to the mix because it was so delicious and smooth. Normally, I don’t drink much. I can’t really. After two drinks, I’m ready to dance on a table. I’m what pop culture refers to as a “cheap drunk”, but that pisco sour was amazing. Usually, drinking pisco for me is like taking a kick to the stomach: Instant ulcer. On top of that, the pisco sours are usually too sweet, too sour, or bitter. This one was the perfect mix of all three. I could have married it, but that would have been weird.
Yesterday morning, I got my funemployed butt out of bed to a morning kundalini class and somewhere between the forward folds and the breath of fire, I started feeling the effects of this weekend’s excesses. It was like, OH, hello chorillana! That’s where you’ve been hiding. Gross.
All and all, it was an awesome birthday.
How was your weekend/Monday?