Birthday party no. 3a was just me. And a massage therapist. It was possibly my favorite party of all, but that may just be because I finally found a massage therapist who can dig deeply enough into that one spot under my shoulder blade that pains me pretty much every day.
The effects of the massage lasted approximately, oh, two days. I skipped fighting class on my birthday so as to preserve the painless back, but today I went back and did 50 round kicks on each side and now my back feels normal again. Which is to say, ouch.
My roommate's parents threw party 3b on the evening of my birthday. (Side note: I am so envious of her for living in the same town as her parents. If my parents would bother to live somewhere see-lightly awesomer than where they do (also see-lightly warmer), I would totally live close to them. Unfortunately, they live in the Mitten, and not only am I not a member of the Mitten Bar Association, but um, well. There are not enough young single professionals in their 30s there. FINE, I SAID IT.)
So my roommate's parents live in town, a fact that continues to make me burn with jealousy every time she goes over there, but the good part about them living in town is that they grill me salmon for my birthday. Salmon her dad caught himself in Alaska six weeks ago, thank you very much, which you can correctly interpret as meaning: amazing salmon. Grilled.
I love grilled salmon. I love grilled salmon so much that I took a second helping of salmon over having stomach space to fit more than a little piece of ice cream cake. (If you knew my sweet tooth, your jaw would be flopping on the floor right now. I almost never choose any other kind of food over sugar.)
So yes, 3a = massage. 3b = grilled salmon.
What I'm saying here is that my birthday rocked this year.
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