I love garlic. Love it. LUHVE IT.

(That was a weird way to start a post. Wild Samantha is my name.)

On Monday I turned 26. GASP. Or as my sister would say, "you're closer to 30 than you are to 20 now." Gag.

Moving on.

My mom and sister came into town on Sunday for a few days to visit with us (mostly Emma) and to --- DUH DUH DUHHHH -- babysit. Praise the Lord.

Paul and I were able to enjoy an intimate dinner, just the two of us (we can make it if we try-eye), at The Stinking Rose. "What is that?" you ask, well it is more affectionately known as the garlic restaurant (tag line, we serve food with our garlic, giggle giggle). It's Italian. It's garlicy. It's delicious. It's stinkin' phenomenal. And I still smell like garlic three days later.

It was a terrific way to celebrate. And now, a photo dump.

Obligatory silly selfie session.

Get down with your alliterative bad self, Samantha.

We like, we like to party.

I ordered a humongous Manhattan (extra cherries because I'm a child) and I had their focaccia smothered in fresh garlic/parsley/olive oil. And now I'm weeping again.

I know, the back of my head looks great. And yes, food on my face. Of course. So glamorous.

Paul got the garlic-crusted baby back ribs and he ate every. single. one. I ordered the 40-clove (!!!) roasted chicken. It was life-changing. And huge. And rosemary-y. And garlic-y. And vampires be warned by my breath.

Heaven is a place on earth with you.

And yes, I spread those whole roasted cloves all over my bread and maybe straight on my face.

Four fine servers also sang a happy birthday tune and placed this magnificent gem right on my head.

I know, hot mama in the city.

Then to top off the evening, I had the BIGGEST scoop of garlic ice cream

I know, you're like WHAT THE EFFF? But seriously, it was some of the best ice cream I have ever had and that's saying a lot because ice cream is my favorite food on this here planet earth. It had this caramel mole sauce on top and I weeped for a third time.

I shoveled that heaven in a bowl in my mouth like it was my last meal.