This birthday started with the worst case of flu I’ve had in my life. Chills, sweats, fever, no birthday cake…it was pretty miserable. I’m blogging into the past to remind myself that although the actual day was rotten, I was able to bookend the day with friends and more celebration than the occasion warranted. This one officially goes down in my books as the Roses and Thorns birthday.

I switched decades, moved into a new bracket, mentally and physically incremented my person, became a little more comfortable with saying “get off my lawn”, listened to opera, listened to Foo Fighters, ate pizza, ate fish, ate spinach dip, served monster slices of cake with no tolerance of “oh I’ll have a little slice” because half measures are for sissies, doused everything with whipped cream and then had a little extra straight from the dispenser, plotted, planned, schemed, reminisced, had a run and skip naked, had another, celebrated a victory of weight loss, talked about men, talked about British television, talked about men some more, smelled the roses, gathered the roses, took pictures, shopped for shoes, took free shoes home, harassed, harangued, polished, published and did it all with a modicum of grace because really, what else was there to do?
Thanks to the girls for seeing me through and to everyone else for their well wishes. Get off my lawn.


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