Welcome to my thirties.

I celebrated my thirty-first birthday this weekend. Thirty-one has been good to me so far. Pre-birthday celebrations had me eating a brownie for dinner, and then on my birthday we went to the movies to see Greenberg, had dinner at Isabella, and then came home and had a fantastically delicious birthday ice cream cake (which reminds me, I have some left! I can have some tonight! Score!). Saturday saw me get to the tailor to have some much needed hemming done, and then we ambled down the state into Rhode Island and ended up eating on Federal Hill at Constantino's. Our meals were quite fine - rivaling anything I've eaten in the North End - and Doug and I plan to get back down there at some point to try another dining option. Or even to eat at Constantino's again. My ravioli had beets in their filling. Beets! This was one time I was happy when leaving a restaurant feeling overstuffed and sick.

And then we saw Chris and Chris and Ruby. We hung out at their place and caught up on life, really one of the highlights of my birthday celebrations. Chris and Chris always apologize for talking about Ruby a lot when we're there, but it's not like Doug and I mind. We are happy to talk about her, look at her, hold her, be around her. Look at her! You'd have to be a heartless Grinch indeed to not enjoy every second around this happy family. Chris and Chris are doing a great job at keeping Ruby happy and healthy (and awed) and leaving their warm, cheery house is always so hard. We always end up leaving later than planned. If only there were a way to make the distance a little shorter.

I'd also like to find a way to make The Curious Case of Benjamin Button a little shorter, too. It's been sitting on our TV stand for about three weeks now, waiting to be watched. I tell myself it's because I don't have two hours and forty-five minutes to devote to it, but it's probably also because I don't have the desire to watch Brad Pitt in that wrinkly old-man-baby body. Or to watch Brad Pitt at all. I admit to really liking his performance in Inglourious Basterds, and now that I think of it, he was pretty decent in the Ocean's movies, but I have a bias against him. It's because of Angie. I'm not her biggest fan at all, so I think I have turned my brain off to Brad Pitt, too. They're pretty much the same person now, anyway, right? But why do I think that? And this makes me wonder - do people think of me and Doug as the same person now, too? I know we have the same glasses, but we are different. Just ask Ruby. Doug makes Ruby coo with glee just by looking at her, and while I don't make Ruby cry, I am certainly not as entertaining as Doug. This could be a good thing, though. This means that I might be able to spend the rest of my thirties as my own person, developing my own self, and then turn into Doug once my forties hit. Something to look forward to, indeed (unlike Benjamin Button, which I go to now so slowly and reluctantly...).