Alive and kicking.

I'm not going to lie. I wasn't looking forward to 35. It's an age I've dreaded since I turned (and dreaded) 25. And 30. Both those ages turned out to be pretty great, actually, so I shouldn't be surprised the 35 is already shaping up pretty nicely.

Of course, the drinks helped.

My very first ever bloody mary.

Killed it.

My final beer of the Buck beer challenge.

 10 months, 16 Michigan beers later.

Tasty country club margarita.

And the cupcake.

I've very rarely been seduced by the baked good tables at the Farmer's Market, but this cupcake was in my possession before I even thought about it. I saw it, then I had it. And it was delicious. Fresh raspberry frosting = birthdaytastic.

And last but so very not least, all the awesome people in my life that wouldn't dare let me sulk and ignore a birthday made this one of the best birthday weekends yet. That helped, too.

Hugs and kisses to our St. Joe contingent.

Oh yeah, and this crazy dancing lady flower. She helped, too.

You can't beat me, 35!

35 and still smiling.

Usually.

For the most part.