33...

Today I am 33 years old.  

Which, sounds... well, not precisely young, but not "the end of the world is drawing near old" - So... I guess I'll take it.  Because really, if you don't feel your age, it's only a number, right?  That coupled with the fact that I totally did 110 jumps on the pogo stick this weekend after a ten year hiatus from pogo-ing makes me downright youthful.  And lest I forget about cruisin' on the pink Cadillac beach cruiser of a bike with a babe on my shoulders, I shall document it here.  Oh, and there was the back hand spring.  

Let's summarize...

Three reasons I am definitely not "actually" thirty-three -
1.  Pogo stick
2.  Bike with babe &
3.  Birthday back handspring.  Just a little something I do for myself to prove that I am not old and that this gal has still got it.  (But if I'm honest, I literally saw a few stars on that last one but only because I dedicated myself to stellar form and that handspring was one to rival Nadia Comaneci... I am talking perfect ten material).

OK, true to form, RyGar with the loving help of my Mama & Daddy-o, carved out a birthday weekend which can only be known as epic.  Which means that a small road trip to the land of delicious red dirt was in order.  I visited my favorite hometown haunts.  I got served my Mom's halibut, homemade fries & German chocolate cake.  I shopped and saw my bestie.  The weather delivered a full day of sun and sixty degree temps AND my kids & the hubs were just working the sandbox like rock stars.

See?  Epic.

And thus begins my thirty-third birthday week, which promises to deliver even more of the good stuff.  And since I'm a gal who loves all things alliteration, I feel like 33 has good mojo.  Yes, it leaves a good taste in my mouth, that one. 

Much like my weekend.  :)