Last Night of Being 37

Geez, am I really going to be 38 tomorrow? Wow. How did I get here? It seems like only yesterday I was 18, flouncing my pom-poms in the drill team and looking forward to high school graduation! And here I am, 20 years later, fifty pounds (at least!) heavier, 5000 miles away from where I started, and much much wiser. Alas, if I only knew then what I know now ...

My friend Lynn came round this evening to bring me my birthday presents. They were lovely, especially the framed autographed picture of Mark Webber (yum!). I told her I had been trying to forget my birthday, and she asked why. My response was, "Because now I'll only have one birthday left in my 30s".

I also had a "Happy Birthday" from my best Aussie friend Pete. He said he was allowed to do that because it's already the 7th in Australia. Does that mean that when I turn 40, he's going to rob me of a few last precious hours of being in my 30s?

So if I'm trying to forget my birthday, why am I posting in my blog announcing it? Because I'm trying to accept my age. I'm trying to look at the good things. I only have a few gray hairs, that's good. I don't have wrinkles. I look fairly young for my age. I'm healthy. I'm relatively happy. I still have my mental faculties (mostly). I've always been absent minded and puddled, so that's not due to aging.

The alternative to having birthdays is not being around to have them. Now, I think I've convinced myself to accept my age. So where's my birthday cake? I'm hungry.