Happy 33



Given that they're an experience that we all have every year, birthdays can still be such personal things.

I feel like the ones that are "supposed" to leave me in puddles of self-doubt and reflection often just skate by happily.  Twenty-five?  Gosh, I'm not even sure I remember it.  Thirty?  Easy-peasy.  I was 8 months pregnant, so I was thrilled just to have an excuse to buy a ticket at the expensive movie theater with the jumbo seats.  

Now 28, on the other hand....it's not a coincidence that we went on a birthday wine drinking trip that year.  I just wasn't quite where I thought I'd be, and it felt like 30 was running me down faster than I could build the life I wanted.  Thus, lots of wine.

Earlier this week, I was a little afraid 33 was going to be that kind of birthday--the hard kind.  But then there was a little bend in the road and 33 ended up being friendly, after all.

What can I say?  It's hard to be blue when all of my "people" decide to spoil me all at once.  And a day that starts with blueberry muffins and handmade knitting needles, and ends with Christmas decorations and candles--how bad could that really be?

Not bad at all.  Not bad at all.