Today is my half birthday. It's true -- I am 38.5 years old. I know that you're supposed to stop counting the halves after a certain point in life, but why? I like my birthday. Today is just 18 months from my 40th, and I am contemplating something quite big and wonderful to mark that occasion. I'm thinking fomalwear.
Most of my friends turn 40 this year -- and they are planning more modest celebrations, yet spectacular in their own way. They're thinking no kids, big umbrella drinks, and something that involves 48 hours away from the chores of domestic life.
My sister has the same birthday as I do [note: not the same birth date] and she feels less inclined to celebrate the passage of time with quite the same aplomb.
One thing I have always loved about her, though, is that the half-birthday is kind of like New Year's Day -- a time to resolve to get certain things done in time for the official arrival of the birthday. Tonight I made a list of a few things I would like to have completed by the Big 39.
Six months until perfection. Here we go again.
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