A week ago, I turned 37.

Some years you feel really great about reaching your birthday. For instance, when I turned thirty I was back in my pre-baby mini-skirt and ready to rock a new decade. (Alas, another baby threw me out of that mini-skirt a year later!) But since then, I’ve felt a little….noncommittal…about the turn of the calendar page.

To help jumpstart me out of my birthday lethargy, my pal Jen Roach threw me a girls-night-out at our local Moroccan restaurant. We sat on satin cushions, watched people shimmy, and drank Moroccan Sunsets with maraschino cherries one the bottom. (This made me quite giddy and I am one of the few adults I know who actually like maraschino cherries.) The well-advertised male belly dancer was not on the docket for the evening — but that was fine by me. I’m not sure male belly dancing is a good thing. The dancer who was there, a professional acquaintance of Helene’s, was talented and fun loving and I didn’t even mind at all when she wrapped my head up in her shawl until I was wearing a giant teetering yellow turban. Friends from multiple worlds came (monkfish, school, family) and I felt very celebrated and very grateful. Here are some pics so you can see what you missed. And a big belated THANKS to Jen for making it all happen!!!!

in the spin of things

my gal pals boogie oogie woogie

washing up for dinner

helene shows us how it’s done