My twenty-fifth year was awesome, as it should be because my lucky number is five and five times five is 25. This was the year I resumed going to the gym, Este got into Columbia grad school, we set a date for the wedding, I started a new job and my first book there hit the bestseller list, I broke my habit of biting my nails (well, sort of), and we moved into a ballin' new apartment. There have been a lot of changes and for the first time since I moved to New York for college eight years ago, I can feel a new chapter beginning in my life. Bigger than a chapter--more like Part III. After all, 26 is 30 rounded up.
I can only hope that 26 is a better year than 25 and that each year gets better after that. So far, life is damn good and judging by the extent of partying during my birthday weekend, there are thousands (hundreds?) more good times to come. Cheers!
Pre-game in the apartment.
The party continues on the subway.
Partying it up at Alibi Lounge.
Whiffle ball at Central Park. Obviously too hungover to play an actual game, but at least we got a good team photo!
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