Clever Miss B. She let the cat out of the bag. I probably wouldn't even have mentioned anything, but you know it's bad luck to have an unbagged cat just wandering around your blog. So, yes, I'll admit it...
Yesterday was my birthday, and I am now officially on the after-30 downhill slide.
I was hoping maybe no one would notice. Maybe I could go on in Blogland being youthful and spry and thirty forever. But, no. Someone had to go and be resourceful.
Darn you, Burrows, and your well-organized flash cards o' personal information.
(Who does that, really? I mean seriously...)
Okay, I'm not mad. And I probably would have mentioned it anyhow, because I wanted to thank Dapoppins for watching Ethan for us Saturday night so we could go out to dinner and a movie (Iron Man, good). And my buddy Meghan, who doesn't blog, but reads mine and NEVER comments, for hand delivering some beautiful yellow hybrid lilies. And my husband, who, despite getting me nothing, refused to be one-upped by Meghan (not hard to one-up a big, fat goose egg, dear), hand picked one of my own roses off the trellis.
Aw, shucks. You shouldn't have. Really. But considering you spent $6,000 on my present last year, I'm gonna let it slide. Just this once.
Heck, at least it wasn't an alternator or something.
So, yes, I'm old now. Go ahead and let me have it. Just, uh, use caps lock, would ya? My eyesight ain't what it used to be.
You know, before yesterday and all.