So, first of all, I want to say THANK YOU to everyone who wished me a happy birthday. I was a little overwhelmed by the multidue of sweet notes I received, but of course, grateful for every single one.

Yesterday was this monumental day in history, and I was definitely experiencing a little thrill that my 33rd birthday fell on the same day that Barack Obama became our 44th president. As I kept joking, this year, the whole world celebrated my birthday!

As for that birthday: it was ... mixed. In fact, the day before my birthday was way better than my actual birthday! My college roommate Jen took me to lunch at the Macaroni Grill and gave me this funny card and a belated Christmas present for Scout - a blue bone with the word KOSHER stitched on it. Then, that night, Joe stayed up until midnight so that he could be the first to wish me a Happy Birthday. He also couldn't wait to give me my presents, which included a subscription to REAL SIMPLE magazine (my favorite - I've been buying it every month and at $4.99 a pop, the subscription will mean BIG savings and lots of mail-delivered goodness) and a binder full of my recipes - things I've printed out, things my mom has given to me, things I've pulled into a magazine - all slipped into those clear page protectors. He even drew a custom cover for the front of the binder. Can you say sweet?

My actual birthday started off bad, bad, bad. I had an 8 a.m. follow-up at my bariatic surgeon's office. I got there at 8:03 a.m. and then waited 20 minutes just to get checked in. Then every single person was seen before me, even people who arrived after me. I didn't have face time with the physician's assistant until 9:15 a.m., and then he was confused by my questions and even a little bit rude. I was waiting for him to bring me lab slips when I realized it was almost 10. So I left the exam room, and as I was checking out my lab slip finally printed out.

Then, I was so upset about the appointment and my mom's total lack of compassion when I called her about it (she told me I was being overly emotional and overreacting and a bunch of other things I didn't not feel like hearing), I accidentally ate my breakfast too fast and then proceeded to puke it all up. Later, at class, only half of my students had written/turned in the full first draft of their research projects, and I was handed a bevvy of some of the sorriest excuses I've ever gotten. Seriously, the work ethic in this session's freshmen is sorely lacking. One student tried to get my sympathy by telling me she only had one page of her paper because she had to spend the whole weekend studying for a geology mid-term, and she was already on academic probation. Only thing is, this student skipped my class on Friday and, because of my being sick on Wednesday and having a teacher in-service thing I had to do on Thursday, she basically had an entire week off from class AND STILL DIDN'T WRITE MORE THAN ONE PAGE OF HER PAPER.

I felt annoyed as I drove home, and was looking forward to slipping into my PJs and watching a little TV before Joe got off work. Then, literally as I'm walking through the door, my cell phone rings and it's Joe telling me his battery died in Newark and can I come give him a jump? I started to cry on the spot. I'd just come from Newark. I told him I needed to take care of two quick things and then I'd be on my way. Fortunately, Joe had this battery jumper thing my stepfather had given me for Christmas, and he got it to work and so called me back and told me I didn't have to come get him after all. Even so, I'd barely snuggled in to watch that day's DVR'd DECORATING CENTS when Joe got home - he'd brought me cupcakes from Sweet & Sassy. (I have this thing about making candle wishes on my birthday, because I have a high success rate of them coming true.) So once again, Joe was the bright spot in an otherwise crappy day.

That night, we'd planned on taking Zumba at the Y. It's billed as a latin dance-inspired workout that celebrates the joy of movement. Sounds fun, right? WRONG. The Zumba at our Y is taught by the Core Nazi, so dubbed because I took a Core Challenge class with her a couple of weeks ago that was hellish. That class was billed as beginner and appropriate for all fitness levels, and advertised a chance to strengthen your core and improve your balance. Only, the Core Nazi had us doing side planks with our ankles balanced atop a tiny, 4-lb. medicine ball. I'm sorry, but there is absolutely NOTHING beginner about that. As soon as I realized the Core Nazi was teaching this class, too, I wanted to run. But Joe and I had been talking about doing Zumba for weeks, so we stayed. And there was nothing celebratory nor joyous about that class. Nothing truly beginner, either. The moves were so complicated that I spent a good portion just step-touching so that I could at least keep my heart rate up. We ditched about 10 minutes before the class was over and went home feeling defeated.

I took a nice, hot shower while Joe heated up dinner - this weird chicken dish I tried to make the night before from an episode of ASK AIDA that went horrbly awry. I should've known when the recipe called for the chicken thighs to have their skin on. I almost always remove the skin. But I tried it her way and it was greasy and gross. So then we took the chicken out, let it cool, stripped the skin and shredded the meat back into the sauce. Since the doctoring took so much time, we ate leftovers and put the chicken dish away for my birthday. It looked kind of gross and brown, so when heating it up I added some frozen peas and Joe shaved carrot curls into it. Then it looked better, but one bite of chicken and I knew it wasn't going to go down - the meat wasn't tender enough. So then I had to make myself an alternate dinner, and I settled on boxed mac-n-cheese, ate like half a cup of it, and promptly felt sick.

Joe and I were so tired we fell asleep watching GOOD EATS reruns. He got me up at 10:15 to blow out my candle and eat some cupcake. Only, my sweet tooth isn't what it used to be, either, so I had a couple nibbles of the cake part and a like of too-sweet frosting before turning the rest over to him. We collapsed into bed, and that was my birthday. I was asleep so early that I missed a call from Andrew, whose sister's birthday is on the same day. Ironic, since he's usually asleep long before I am.

Since my birthday fell on a work night, Joe and I are doing the big celebration thing on Saturday. We're going to see the Narnia exhibit at the Franklin Institute! I've been dying to go since I first found out about it, so I'm super excited and hoping that Saturday turns out a lot better than yesterday did.

This post has gone on a lot longer than I meant it to, but to wrap up, I present to you ( a list of things I'd like to do in my 33rd year )