Life should be celebrated. And that includes birthdays.

This past week, I reached an age I've been dreading. No, it's not 50. But I've spent months avoiding thinking about this birthday, so there was quite a bit of angst in the days leading up. I made good use of my pensive reflectiveness and wrote some thoughts about getting older. I jotted them down …

when you fall asleep writing a title and hit publish on accident

One day, my memory will be even worse. And I will be the lady with the cats and the books and the unruly garden, living on spinach dip and tortilla chips and feeding Dave TV dinners.

middle age, metabolism, and Monday

I figure I'm right in the middle of the August of life, which is still summer, if you know what I mean.