Well, friends, I've made it to another birthday and survived another year of life. In my crazy little world, that's a pretty big accomplishment.
Today was nice. My mom sent me cookies from an awesome cookie place in Work City, my favorite coworkers bought me lunch, I got to go out for a couple of drinks after work, I came home to a "surprise party" from my boys (they hid on the stairs and yelled "surprise!" when I walked in, sang "Happy Birthday," and gave me my present and a pupcake. (The boys call cupcakes "pupcakes," and it's about the most adorable thing ever.)), and I've done no housework tonight. This is about as good as a birthday gets once you're an old lady.
Thirty wasn't so bad. I mildly freaked out about 30 being soooooooo OLD, but it didn't end up being all that traumatic. Thirty was the age of healing and learning and - I hope - growing into a better, stronger person. Thirty-one is going to be the age of change. I have some big plans for 31.
But that's another post for another day. For now, I'm going to enjoy the end of a happy birthday.