I turned 42 this year. 42, the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything. I can’t say I have any profound knowledge to pass on, and truth be told, I haven’t really done anything meaningful with my life. But I have a good life. All of my immediate family is alive and well. My kid and I have a great relationship. I have fantastic friends. I have a job that I love and work with lots of good friendly people. I may even be able to retire someday if the world doesn’t fall apart. There are lots of things I could bitch and moan about, and sometimes I do just that, but for the most part life is good.

Birthday week started on a Friday, my birthday. I spent the day doing the same thing I’ve done for just about forever. Bookstores and lunch with my homie. It doesn’t sound exciting, but it’s our tradition and a comfort. Saturday was cookout with the family. It was great, as usual. I spent Sunday afternoon at the zoo with my kid. Took lots of naps on Monday. Tuesday kind of sucked. I went to renew my driver’s license but was thwarted by birth certificate requirements. Tried to get my tire replaced but was thwarted by Walmart not wanting to honor the warranty. I went home and blew off the rest of the day. Got my shit done on Wednesday. Birth certificate acquired, license renewed. Thursday was freebiepalooza day. Super fun. Had a mammogram on Friday. I had forgotten all about that appointment. I spent Saturday and today catching up on movies. I probably should have gone to the store for some produce, but I didn’t feel like leaving the house. I had lots of crochet plans that I didn’t get to, but it’s all good.

Overall it was a good week. I love birthday week. It’s my yearly gift to myself. I guess maybe I do have some advice to pass along after all. Be good to yourself.