I'm 38 today. I could be coy and just say that today is my birthday, but I got over coy roughly a decade ago, so now I am 38 and here we are. I debated and debated what to do with myself on my birthday since I have roughly three hours child and husband free, and after running through all my options I decided to sit on my couch for three hours and watch back to back to back DVR'd episodes of Sons of Anarchy. (Do not talk to me about Sons of Anarchy, I'm still five episodes behind.) Anyway, I watched one episode, but then I was bored with the couch so I went running, and then I headed straight back to the couch for more biker violence. Pretty ideal morning, if you ask me.
Anyway, things here are good. Mia is missing so many teeth that she is living on overcooked pasta and applesauce, but she is very happy in school this year and that is a huge improvement on all of our lives. Also, she finally has a warm-blooded pet and it suits her so well. He's a guinea pig named Andersen, and Chris and I have taken to calling him Andersen Pooper. Owen is very nearly five and I have to constantly remind myself of all the very nearly five children I have known and how badly most of them have needed a good throttling in order to avoid delivering said (purely hyperbolic) throttling to my own child, but when he isn't screaming on the floor because I didn't pour the precise amount of milk into his glass that he desired he is really a very sweet boy. Although he just refused to participate in his weekly swim lesson and both kicked me and hit me with his goggles for good measure, just to drive his point home. So there's that.
(I just updated their pictures over on the right there, so click through from your feed reader if you are interested. Poor Owen - add "impossible to get a good picture of cause they do that weird smile thing" to the burdens of being almost-five.)
A friend of mine died last month. It was neither sudden nor unexpected, but still far too soon and too young. She taught me that if life hands you lemons you should say oh well fuck you too and grab an awesome hat and sing some show tunes and make lemonade confetti and load it into a cannon and fire it straight back into life's face. She also taught me that, when you are threading a needle, you should never lick the thread. Lick the needle instead, and I swear that thread practically jumps through the eye.
I'm thinking of making 38 the year I blog again. It seems impossible from here, but maybe all I have to do is lick the needle instead of the thread.