Turning 31

On Friday I turned 31. “You ready to go?” my guy asked when he walked in the door after work. He tossed groceries in the fridge and started changing from work clothes into something that looked more like weekend-wear: jeans, a t-shirt.
“Yeah,” I said. “Do I need a sweatshirt?”
“Yeah.”
We headed out the door. He drove me out to Half Moon Bay - the nearest beach. We watched the sun set behind the hills, multiple times, as we drove. HMB was foggy, but we walked through the sand anyway, before dinner at Half Moon Bay Brewing Company. This is one of my ongoing favorite restaurants, largely because it has firepits and live blues/rock bands. It also cards me every time I go there. This time was no different. It’s not all bad to get carded on your thirty-first birthday, but I do wonder - where was all this rigor when I was underage? I didn’t have ID, so I ordered hot tea and sneaked sips of my guy’s beer when the server wasn’t looking.
On Saturday we hiked out to Tennessee Beach. When we got home my guy started dinner. I messed around with the stereo and the computer, not paying any attention. “OK!” he called a while later. And we sat down to perfect steaks - grass-fed, since that’s my newest food-kick, and with a sauce that my guy, in his first attempt at steak, adjusted wildly from the recipe with noticeable success.
This is an awesome birthday.