A Happy Birthday

I'm 35. I could wax philosophical, but it really feels just like 34, and 33 before that. I'm another year wiser. Rich and Lisa (and kids) took me to dinner at Carmen's. They seated us upstairs, and the power went out up there, which means the music was off and the table was lit by the candle only. By the time we finished our salads, they had the lights and Sinatra back on. The folks at the table next to us were under the emergency light and it shone directly onto one guy who used his napkin to shield his eyes for the duration. At another table they couldn't get their check, because the computer was off, and the printer, thusly. I had beef tenderloin rigatoni, which they call Rigatoni ala Carmen. It was good, but not as good as the Chicken Spedini, which I usually get. I'm just burned out on chicken at the moment. The storms rolled in as we left and the weather felt good until the rain started coming down.  Another noisy little squall just woke me up, so. . .