Pretty with the flowers, yes?

I keep forgetting that I've got a birthday coming up the end of this week. I'm preoccupied with the excitement of hanging out with Mom, I suppose, but it was weird to look at a calendar and see my name on the square reserved for Friday. (Yes, I include my own birthday on the calendar. You see how easy I make it for him?) And the number I'll be: 35. Yeck. You know what that means? It means I move up into the next age category when it comes to surveys and informational fill-outs. The dreaded "35-44" will now be mine. And that is bothering me in so many ways. I imagine that I'll be getting pretty philosophical as the day approaches, but I will try to not let it get to me too much. It just seems like such a ... drum roll kind of number. ... ... .... .... You know what? Whatever. It's just a number, another multiple of five, another age category. I say, "Get over it, little girl. Deal like the big kids do! At least you won't be getting a Medicare card any time soon."
(Love you Daddy!)