I am old.

My thirtieth birthday came this year, and to be honest, I'm glad it's here. I've read such great things about being a woman in her 30s. (And, if we're being honest, I'm the last of my friends to actually experience the milestone, so it's tough to feel bad about it.)

Dinner at Dad and Char's is an official birthday event, and Craig and his girlfriend Lindsey joined us. Since we never had a chance to celebrate Craig's birthday in July, Char added his name to the official birthday refrigerator. You can see in the picture he had a little fun at my expense while I was busy putting on the official birthday candle light-up hat. Oh yes, we are THAT official.

Most people know I am named after my mother, who was also Penny. She and my dad, and Char and my dad after, have carried on a tradition that my mother's parents first started with her. Each year, they wrap a penny in wax paper and bury it in my birthday cake. Whoever finds the penny in their piece of cake gets a wish of his or her own. Shorty got the penny (for the third time!) this year after eating two slices of cake. And he was able to fully enjoy the sweets after finally pulling out his loose tooth. And then, hopefully, made good use of his wish.