Spit out the candles

I had a lovely birthday weekend which revolved around food. More precisely, me shoveling it down my throat. Envision champion hot dog eating guy, but with red hair and a cute purse. Did you realize that there is actually an International Federation of Competitive Eating? My true calling. Replace the hot dogs with cake though. Food makes me happy. I sent an e-mail to my friend Rosie telling her about my birthday weekend, and my first sentence was "Rosie, I ate the most amazing halibut of my life, you need to come up here so I can take you to the restaurant." Yup. Food good.

James and I celebrated my 34th year of existence a day early. He surprised me with a trip to a restaurant I have never been to, but most definitely will go back to. It was a cute little place that has the best halibut EVER. With mushroom lemon risotto. I was in heaven. And then I tried James' beef tenderloin, and it melted like butter in my mouth. Double the heaven. Happy Birthday to me!




Sunday birthday brunch consisted of strawberry french toast and a breakfast burrito. I couldn't decide between the two, so I ordered the french toast "for Rowan". And then I ate half of it. Speaking of Rowan, no matter whose birthday it is, he insists on blowing out the candles. Did I say blowing? I actually meant spitting them out. Doesn't matter, I would eat that cake if it fell on the floor. Five second rule.


That's right folks. I am officially four years old. Count the candles...they don't lie. Do you see this cake? This is a mini version of my wedding cake. And guess what?! There is none left. I ate it all. With little help believe me. And now, I am in a food coma.