Yeah, I know. It was supposed to be 2012, but we made it to 2014 despite the Mayan's crappy predictions, and I'm calling 2014 the next apocalyptic event. To be more specific, any day now. I turned the big 4-0, the pivotal power age, the new 30 last week. Whatever. It's forty. I'm figuring the way I deal with stress, I'll be lucky to live to 80, so let's just be real here. It's not the new thirty, it's stupid to call it "the power age," - it's half dead. I'm gonna call it like I see it. My once radiant wrinkle-free face, isn't quite as fresh as it once was. Other body parts are beginning to drop a bit and my memory even seems for crap. I get winded by doing laundry, and the idea of going out for a late night with friends is something I have to plan meticulously and have a free day to sleep in afterward. Getting old sucks.
However, in true T. fashion, I didn't timidly tiptoe over that hill. I dove off and celebrated in style in the one place on Earth that is like my own personal Disneyland. Forty vacation, you were amazing. I began this new half of life headed downhill... on Bourbon Street.
Bur first, dinner at the fabulous Irene's... there's many a reason this place is my favorite. The tiramisu is one.