Blessed are the 33-year-olds.

Yesterday was my birthday. I am now an age that is a multiple of 11. So far, it’s pretty kewl.

I must say that this has been pretty much the best birthday ever. Thursday, Mr. Wonderful and I got all prettied up and went to a fancy restaurant … and made an entire table of old people goo-goo over us when Mr. Wonderful pulled a small box out of his coat pocket.

It’s the most beautiful necklace. It marked the first time I’ve ever cried for joy as a room full of strangers looked on.

Yesterday, we both took the day off. My crazy generous boyfriend bought be hiking shoes. For lunch, we went to Chick-Fil-A, the greatest restaurant ever, where the owner gave me a stuffed cow, a cow for my car antena, and a Chick-Fil-A clock. Birthday princess, indeed!

Then, Mr. Wonderful and I went hiking. It was a lovely, sunny day – the kind of day that makes you feel really alive. And I did.

We had dinner with the Ladybug that involved balloons and the waitstaff serenading me, then we went to the park. All said, we walked about six miles and consumed about 56,309 calories.

And today? Today is the one-year anniversary of my very first date with Mr. Wonderful.

He is delightful. I can’t believe we’ve only known each other for a year. And necklace and fancy jocky shoes aside, he is still the most generous, loving friend I have ever known.

And yeah, he’s totally cute, too. Happy birthday to me, indeed.
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