that time i turned 29 and didn't black out

I did not want to turn 29.

Something about turning another year older reminded me that my life had not turned out according to plan. I came very close to telling my friends that I didn't want to celebrate at all. Actually, I may have told Julia that I wanted to stay home and cry on my birthday. But then I had a good talk with my therapist, a couple of good cries, got my head out of my ass, and realized that my friends wanted to celebrate my day. And I realized that just because my life hasn't gone according to some plan I laid out when I was 16 doesn't mean that it's not awesome. Because it is. I have amazing friends and a wonderful (and unbelievably crazy) family - all of whom make me feel special and loved every day - but especially on February 21st.

Last year I got blitzed and karaoke'd to every Whitney Houston song every recorded. I also did pottery painting (and wine drinkin') with friends on the day of my actual birthday. This year, my roommate suggested doing a potluck at the apartment and it was perfect. We ate, we laughed, we played Cards Against Humanity. And you know what? It was really awesome to not wake up with a crippling hangover. Instead, I woke up with a crippling sugar hangover. Not even sure which is worse. 

CAKE MONSTER.

A few weeks ago, Lu and I had made plans to go salsa dancing in Central Square as part of my Month of Movement. Due to the proximity to my birthday - it unintentionally (or maybe not? Lu is pretty sneaky about these things) became part deux of the celebration. Me, Lu, and France started off with dinner and cocktails at Green Street before making our way to the Havana Club for our salsa lesson and dance party. Lu had been before and implied that we should be properly liquored up so that we could fully enjoy the glory that is the Havana Club.

warning: pictures taken in black and white make people appear more classy than they actually are in real life

A little background about the Havana Club. It's actually a Greek American Club that turns into a dance club on Friday and Saturday evenings. for 12 dollars you get a "lesson" from 9-10p and then are free to dance until 2am. I've never done any sort of dance class (unless you count burlesque or zumba) and I'm not really all that coordinated. But you know what I am good at? Drinking gin and vodka until I can pretend to dance well. I partnered with all sorts of gentleman, a few being: the very tall Frenchman, the artist who transports patients (and bodies, eek) around Boston Medical Center, and a very nice gentleman from Revere who was wearing an Under Armour shirt because he knew he would sweat.. a lot. And you know what? I enjoyed every. single. second. We danced until our feet were sore and laughed until our stomachs hurt. Which was, in case you were wondering, about 1:30am.

Thank you all for the birthday wishes over the last couple of days! Thank you for the calls, tweets, texts and cards. And the biggest thank you to my friends who celebrated with me on Thursday and Friday. I love you all for knowing that when I say I don't want to celebrate that it means that you should ply me with baked goods and gin - you know me too well and for that I am so eternally grateful.

Here's to 29 being the most epic year yet!