Happy Birthday

... to me!

In honor of my birthday, I was going to skip writing a blog this week.  You guys will be happy to know my sister put her foot down at that idea (she succinctly said, "No").  So here I am, toiling away, even though it's my day—or week, as it is in this case.

Do you want to know how old I am?

A friend of mine chatted me up Monday morning (which was my actual birthday).  Our conversation went something like this:

Him: I was thinking about your situation.  

Me: I have a situation?

Him: Yes.  Your age situation.

Me: Ah.

Him: You aren't old, and you're not a cougar, unless you're dating some young pool boy you haven't mentioned.

Me: ...

Him: So I think that means you're a spinster.

Me: Can you still be a spinster in this day and age?

Him: I think you can in Europe.

Hey—I wanted to say thanks to everyone who's sent me birthday messages.  I think I've replied to them all but, frankly, yesterday is a little bit of a blur thanks to Jim the bartender and his neverending supply of whiskey.  Ahem.

So...  Do you want to know how old I am?