Tuesday morning. It's odd, really, how your birthday changes as you get older. When I was a kid, it was all about the party and my friends and, of course, the presents. In my teens, it was whether or not the cute guy I had a crush on would acknowledge my birthday. My 21st birthday is, strangely, rather a blur, but I do recall something about someone (surely not me?) dancing on the bar at El Torito's. My 29th birthday was spent in hospital with an acute attack of gallstones, so my 30th sort of paled in comparison.

At this point, I'm looking around and wondering what the point of my birthday is anymore. There will be no cake, no candles, no pile of gifts with pretty wrapping paper, only the inexorable march of time forward, and, I guess, that's the way things are when you're single and childless in your late 30s. Today I will go to work, go to meetings, hold a (hopefully) wonderful and insightful discussion about the findings of a process improvment committee which I was the driver of, participate in training to become a guardian ad litem (sp?) for a child in need, and then come home and go to bed. My birthday resolution (didn't know such a thing existed, did you?) is to live my life in such a way that, come October 12, 2005, I have both more to celebrate and more people to celebrate it with.

Happy Birthday, Denise. May there be many more!


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