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I've never wanted children. In high school, twenty years ago, my assigned health class husband health class divorced me because he wanted egg babies and I didn't. Of course, I still had to raise egg babies as a single health class mother. So I'm not quite sure of the point there. And I'm also pretty sure he really just wanted to have egg babies with his actual girlfriend who was also in the class. Sigh. Story of my life. Anyways. I've never wanted children. And I've adamantly opposed, through the years, all of the women who chastise me with the argument that...

My birthday is next week. I'm pretty sure I'm finally reaching the age where the government is required to give me a cat. That's how that works, right? I'd have to check the bi-laws, but I think it was the landmark 1981 Supreme Court case of Fluffy vs. Shadow that established that states are required to provide cats to single 36-year-old women who can't afford their own or have commitment issues. Something like that. Don't Snopes me on it. Anyways. As I said, my birthday is next week. And there's still time to get this crazy cat lady (without a cat) a card...

Today I turn 35. There's something about birthdays that reminds me of how good my life is. I tend to focus, to write, about the thing going wrong in my life, the things I want to improve on, the goals I'm striving towards. And, don't get me wrong, I'm thinking of those things now too: thirty-five has me seeing forty in the future and taking stock. But, on birthdays, it's easy to remember all those great things in life too....

I'm sometimes called out about how negative I can be. And I get it: my blog can be kind of a downer. But that doesn't mean I'm not happy. And it doesn't mean I don't have a totally amazing life full of good food, friends, and experiences. It's mostly just that I use writing as a way to make sense of things, and usually you don't have to make sense of happy things. Happy things are happy things. Negative things are more complicated. Negative things need to be worked through. Negative things need attention. And, for me, writing is the...

Don Eduardo del Rey, draped in yellow and black armor, galloped into the stadium. His smile was snide but sincere as he rode his steed in parade with a confidence becoming of such an accomplished knight. We cheered for him, waving our yellow flags with revelry, as others booed. We swooned as he handed out roses to the girls in the crowd, secretly hoping he would bestow one of us. We clapped in elation when he crowned Heather, our guest of honor, Queen of the Tournament. We scrambled to our feet whooping ovations when our knight took to battle, as...

I still bite my nails, still throw my dirty laundry on the floor, still leave used dishes in the sink. I can't play the guitar, can't knit, can't paint. I never finished that novel I started writing in college. I haven't had a boyfriend in over ten years. I never became a dancer, an actor, a writer. I don't even have a career. I'm still paying off my grad school loans. I'm afraid of heights, of talking on the phone, of getting eaten by a shark. I'm getting to the age where I should start having kids....

Heather turned 31, and she wanted a Chicago-style birthday party. The original plan was to go ice skating. But it was too cold for that. So we went to Margie's for ice cream instead. Because it is never too cold for ice cream. And then we went to Billy Goat for dinner, and we ate cheeseborgers and chips and drank beer and horny goats. Afterwards Heather and Jeremy went to a show at Second City, but I was a totally lame roommate because tickets had already sold out by the time I went to buy one. Totally lame. ...

When I pictured spending my 32nd birthday in Hawaii, I kind of imagined tanning on the beach, swimming in the ocean, eating raw fish, drinking fruity cocktails, and making out with a bleach blonde surfer. Instead, the night ended at 9:30pm passing out on a too-hard mattress and watching Food Network and HGTV. I'd spent most of the day in the car, and nothing in the small town we were sleeping in was open past 9pm. But let's forget about that part, shall we? Because, in the grand scheme of things, my birthday was kind of pretty awesome....

Y'all know how much I love birthdays. Especially when those birthdays are my own. I'm thoroughly of the mindset that you have a good two week window (one before and one after the actual day), give or take a few days, in which everything you do can be "for your birthday." You can justify splurging on extra drinks, new dresses, nice meals, all because "it's my birthday," or, "it's almost my birthday,' or, "it was just my birthday." True story. So, since I won't be home on my actual birthday this Saturday (don't feel too bad for me — I'm celebrating...