Ushering in my third decade

Last week I turned 30. Having psyched myself up for the occasion by telling everyone that I was "turning 30" for the last six months, it wasn't nearly as traumatic as it could have been.

To celebrate, I took my mom, Josh and a group of friends out to my favorite restaurant and then hit the town for drinks.


As you can see, Mrs. Potato Head was the mascot of the evening. Mom hit the nail on the head with this present.


I was thrilled to find out on Saturday morning that I was feeling remarkably well for the morning after a night filled with lychee martinis, mixed drinks that came with gummi worm accessories, and a pitcher of Shed. So what did I do? I grabbed Josh and went to Montreal.



I'm lucky to live approximately a half hour from the Canadian border.


And since it's fall and I live in a foliage wonderland, the drive north was really, really pretty.


Now, I love Montreal. It's heaven. For someone who's always wanted to see Paris but doesn't speak a word of French and is always on the down side of broke, Quebec is paradise. First of all, their road signs are festive and weird:




And it continues into the city:


But the city is lovely and the views down every street are incredible:


Since by this point the cold I'd been fighting off for 2 weeks finally hit me, we took it easy and indulged in my favorite pass time: strolling through the art museum. And Montreal has a great one - the Musee des beaux arts. We took in an amazing exhibit on Andy Warhol and just breathed in the ambiance of modern design. Even the tables at the museum are cool:



It was such fun. Equal parts inspiring and entertaining. And the guard yelled at me in French, which totally made me feel like I passed for a local. Heck, we even have favorite restaurants in town! Now that makes me feel like home. My personal favorite moment was sitting in Allo Indie, this fantastic little Indian joint on Rue Crescent, listening to the manager speak English to us, French to the table next to us, an Indian dialect to his staff, and German to two women at a front table since, if I trust my rusty German, he lived in Munich in the 80's. And did I mention we were all entertained by an incomprehensible Bollywood movie that played over and over again on three TV sets? You can't replicate ambiance like that if you tried.

But all good things must come to an end and, after a teensy bit of shopping (clothes for me, shoes for Josh) on Sunday, we headed home. The drive back was equally as lovely as the drive in:

I couldn't have asked for a better birthday weekend. My eternal thanks to all who helped make it possible, including the Canadian government for again letting Josh and I into their fair country without too much hassle and to the US Border Patrol who let us back out with a smile and a welcome home.