Wednesday is my 36th birthday. There, I said it. 36.
A woman’s age is supposed to be a secret, but why? We should celebrate what we’ve
done and what we have yet to experience.
I’ve always been quite taken by the number six. It started
when I was six and thought it was a pretty cool age.
Six has treated me well – it has appeared in friends’ phone numbers, addresses, and other places where numbers show up. Since I’m pretty vague about my superstition, I also enjoy 2 (since 2x3 is 6, of course) and 3 (for similar reasons.)
By that very odd and illogical logic, this should be a great year.
Six has treated me well – it has appeared in friends’ phone numbers, addresses, and other places where numbers show up. Since I’m pretty vague about my superstition, I also enjoy 2 (since 2x3 is 6, of course) and 3 (for similar reasons.)
By that very odd and illogical logic, this should be a great year.
And I look forward to a year with at least six types of mozzarella:
fresh, smoked, braided, in tiny ciliegine balls, di bufala and burrata.
Mozzarella everywhere! A meal at 2Amy's Pizzeria
(2 years ago)
If you're curious, last year I listed some
of my (not-always-mozzarella) favorite foods.
No comments:
Post a Comment