-30-

On the occasion of my 30th birthday it seems only proper to take a look back at the three decades which have been my life. Happily, I feel I can honestly say I have no regrets.

My family, all its quirks included, has made me who I am today. I married a man who couldn't be more perfect for me. And, I was born to do the job I do.

I am undoubtedly one of the lucky ones. This doesn't mean that I haven't faced my share of challenges in life, but it does make me a firm believer that everything happens for a reason.

My first major hurdle came around the time I turned 12 years old. Struck by depression and anxiety, I stopped going to school. Through the amazing patience of my parents and grandparents, I started home-schooling which gave me the chance to stay up-to-date academically while sorting through the other issues.

My family's dedication ultimately led me to St. Timothy's School where I truly thrived. Thanks to the school's attention to the individual attention and academic rigor, I went on to college and then law school. Had it not been for St. Tim's, I wouldn't have gotten to where I am today.

Five years ago this week, I was diagnosed with colon cancer. That's a life-changing event, if I've ever seen one. It's definitely made me a stronger person, or at least I'd like to think that it has. I might as well get something out of it, right?

It's funny how all the little bits in life add up to make me who I am. I can't wait to see how life plays out from here on out.

My darling husband recently reminded me that in journalism, 30 signifies the end. I guess it's a good thing I'm not a journalist anymore.

Mmmmm... cake!

My nephew, Aidan, celebrated his first birthday this week.

Clearly we're related. This is evidenced by how quickly he dug into his Cookie Monster cake. Like me, Aidan utilizes the inhale-rather-than-chew method of cake consumption.

Oh, just wait till I introduce him to the rest of the finer things in life like chocolate and Diet Coke! So much to learn yet so little time. Happy birthday, kiddo!

Happy 30th, Adrian!

Thirty years ago today, on the Pacific island of Guam, a baby named Gerald entered the world.

A few months after that, he became Adrian. And a little over 18 years later he became my best friend.

(The name change thing is a long story. Ask Adrian about it. Or, better yet, ask his parents.)

Anyway, we met as freshmen at St. Mary's. As newspaper nerds, we both joined the staff of The Point News and before we knew it, Adrian became the editor-in-chief and I was the managing editor.

We've stayed close since college and except for Adrian's year-long stint in Nashville, we've been lucky enough to only be about a half hour away from one another.

Adrian's Tennessee adventure did, however, give me an excuse to head west, where I saw everything from the the Grand Ole Opry to enormous warehouse stores that only sell fireworks. (This is the part where we ignore the fact that I was more excited about Opry Mills, the mall just across the parking lot, than the actual home of country music's elite.)

Adrian is a pretty unique guy and I won't even begin to try explaining him. Just know that he firmly believes that everything is better when pickled. Or in Peep form.

He's also been lucky to travel extensively -- something I've always envied. Please remind me that I still need to get the scoop on his recent return to Guam.

I was one of the invited few at Adrian's birthday party over the weekend hosted by Steve, his older brother, and Steve's wife, Jenn. Like every other Adrian-related event, the Simpsons figured prominently. Adrian's oldest sister, Michelle, made the awesome Homer Simpson carrot cake in the picture above. Below, you'll see the picture I had made for him to commemorate his 30th.



I hope Adrian has an absolutely wonderful 30th birthday. If it goes well for him, I might even try turning 30 in a few months too.

It's my birthday... still

I've recently been chastised for not providing a timely account of my birthday for readers of my blog. Please note that the reason I have not yet given such a summary is that I don't actually consider my birthday to be over yet.

Still, to appease the masses, I hereby present a quick run-down of how my birthday season has gone so far.

The birthday season has thus far included three Broadway shows (Les Miserables, RENT, and Dirty Rotten Scoundrels) as well as the great Baltimore area gastro-entertainment tour, featuring Sotto Sopra, Copra, Cazbar, Baldwin's Station (for both brunch and dinner), Artful Gourmet Bistro, Liberatore's, Don Pablo's, and Fuddruckers.

I am also pleased to once again share my birthday month with Hanukkah and Christmas, which generally serve to increase the dessert available. Over the weekend we dined on latkes at Rich's dad and stepmom's place and then glorious rainbow cake at my aunt and uncle's house.

Starting this year, I now share my birthday month with my cousin's son, Gabriel, who was born last Sunday. As long as the little guy doesn't try to move in on my birthday turf, I think things should be okay. Due to the birth of the aforementioned child, we also attended a bris with spectacular bris food. If you haven't had bris food, you don't know what you're missing. I would highly recommend befriending a nearby pregnant Jewish woman in the immediate future so as to increase your chances of a bris invite. If you cannot locate one on your own, just head over to Park Heights Avenue and you're sure to find one ready to pop. Happy bagels, lox, and whitefish!

The rest of my birthday month shall showcase a trip to Hershey, PA and a short jaunt to Atlantic City, with the month culminating in a New Year's Eve celebration that will certainly include multiple forms of dessert.

By the time I finally awake from my food-induced coma we'll be safely into January and that can only mean one thing -- it's Weight Watchers time baby!

Happy Birthday, Dorks

Today my twin brothers achieve a birthday milestone. They're hitting the quarter century mark. The big 2-5.

It's actually pretty hard for me to believe that my baby brothers have gotten so old. It seems like just yesterday they were skinny little punks who made mommy and daddy do everything for them. (Okay, so maybe it was just yesterday.)

At any rate, I really struggle with the fact that my brothers are, technically, adults. I often forget that when I was 25, I got married and bought a house... both adult things to do. And I do realize that my brothers both hold down full-time jobs and make car payments and do other mature things. They're even house-hunting. But they're still my little brothers.

The guys were born two months premature and my parents didn't know they were even having twins until maybe two weeks before the little alien babies were born. They had to stay in the hospital for a whole month because they were so tiny... only 5 lbs. together.

Danny came first. He's always been the impatient one. Matt came along about 12 minutes later, but only after the doctors went in after him. He's never liked being rushed.

I had just turned two and I remember the first time my grandparents took me to the hospital to visit the boys. My dad held one of them, my mom held the other, and the doctors said I had to stand just beyond the doorframe if I wanted to see them. I moved a little closer to see them (they were so little, afterall) but the doctor shut the door in my face.

Over the years, I've been a so-so big sister. When they were little I was actually pretty mean to them, probably out of jealousy. I'd like to think that I've gotten nicer over the years. Apparently my favorite game early-on was watching my mom give each of the boys a bottle. When she would put the bottle down next to her, I would pick it up and take it over to the other side of the room. Then when she put the baby down and got up to go get it, I would say "Well as long as you're up, can you get me..." What a darling child I must have been.

Lucky for me, it took my brothers quite a while to realize that if they only joined forces, they could overtake me. And now that they're bigger than I am, we actually get along for the most part.

So anyway, happy birthday guys. Enjoy your birthday season!

Welcome to the first official day of Alisa's birthday season

Ah, my birthday. Or more appropriately, my birth season.

Birthdays in my family are not just a day -- they're a series of events. The actual day I was born just serves as a general suggestion for when activities and festivities should take place. For instance tonight, Rich took me to dinner at Baldwin's Station where we were married. Tomorrow night is dinner with some friends, I'll have lunch with my coworkers on Thursday, and then Friday night is out to dinner with the family.

For this year's birthday season Rich bought me tickets to see Les Miserables in D.C. It's our favorite musical and we're so glad to get to see it again.

(Care to do some birthday shopping? Visit My Wishlist.)

Incidentally, in case you're wondering about the above picture, it's my supposed birthday cake. Rich has been threatening me all day about having birthday fruit for me. If you know me at all, or if you understand the concept of dessert in the least, it's fair to say fruit and dessert DO NOT go together. (I make a very limited exception for the following: jelly donuts, chocolate covered strawberries, and raspberry filling in cake.)

So after we returned from our wonderful dinner (I had the crabcakes; he had the beef tenderloin) he beckoned me downstairs to my birthday surprise... grapefruit.

Don't worry -- the real cake appears below. It was demolished within seconds. (Those that know me and dessert also know I don't bother to chew. I merely inhale.)