Spent last night browsing through a freakin' library of possible wedding invitations, and concluded that the people who design these things must be soul-less denizens of a sterile room in the basement of a Lisa Frank building. So Janine and I are going to try our hands at designing our own this weekend, and I'm wide, wide open to suggestions. Actually, if I use anyone's idea in the final invitation, I'll send that person the ear of the first person at our wedding to say anything snide, inappropriate, or confrontational. In which case, the contributor may be receiving a human ear necklace.
Anyway, the birthday was a blast -- Janine drove me out to Temecula, California for some wine tasting and some driving around, and we ate the first night at a turn-of-the-century-bank-turned-restaurant in the historical district, renamed from "Bank" to "Bank of Mexican Food." And I quickly realized after visiting a few wineries that the narrow, windy road linking the vineyards was filled with hundreds of other driving wine tasters, and thus was probably one of the most dangerous roads in the state to be driving on.
Afterwards, we drove through LA to Santa Barbara to see my friend Tracey, who I hadn't seen since I left Taiwan in '96. She looked great, her fiance was a really nice guy, and my long, lost shitzu (Dogmeat) was fat and happy. We caught up, went to a drag show, and I didn't even see the words kareoke the whole time I was there.
And on the way back from LA to Phoenix, we swung through the Joshua Tree National Park and Janine and I took black and white U2 shots of each other looking pensive and way cool with the Joshua trees in the background. Made up for a day of ass-numbing driving marathon and losing a damn hubcap somewhere west of Blythe, California (2003 prize for Most Ridiculous Misnomer, Small Town Category).
Good birthday. Next year: surfing the Ganges.