Share on Pinterest

I turned 38 over the weekend and it's officially safe to say that I am in my "late thirties." At 37 I could still say mid-thirties and be, technically, OK, but there is no denying that 38 is no longer mid. 38 lands in a solidly late position. Last year, turning 37, I wasn't really into my birthday. I just wasn't in a good place in my life and didn't have any energy or desire to celebrate turning one more year closer to 40. I ended up choosing a bar close to home, thanking friends when they kept cancelling because I didn't...

Last week I turned thirty seven and thirty seven is almost forty and I don't know how I feel about that. OK so maybe thirty seven isn't almost forty. But it is almost almost forty. It's tipping the line from mid-thirties into late. It's getting there. And, maybe, I do know how I feel about turning thirty seven. I don't like it. I don't like it at all.   [caption id="attachment_56023" align="aligncenter" width="1400"] Age is just a number that makes you feel bad about yourself because fuck you're old.[/caption]   To say I haven't been taking this birthday well might just be an understatement. I've dreaded...

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.   I celebrated my birthday at Las Tablas — a Colombian restaurant in...

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. ...