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...

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...

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...