I turned 39 on Monday. I’m not good with 9 birthdays. I don’t have a problem with 0 birthdays, but 9 birthdays bum me out. On 9 birthdays (at least the last three of them–I don’t think I minded one whit when I turned 10) I look back at all the things I said I was going to do that decade and didn’t accomplish. I have one year to check off all the things on my “By the Time I’m 40” list. The 0 birthdays are great, because that’s a clean slate. A whole new decade for new goals. I already know a whole bunch going on the 40s list (1. Run Comrades–on an up year–before I turn 50). But the 9s? They suck. Totally.
Where to Find Me
Where to Find Me
Ha. I’ve always felt the same way about the dreaded ‘9’ birthdays – hated them – and didn’t mind the ‘0’s – at least until this year, when I turned a full, round 50, and my AARP card arrived in the mail, unbidden. Gaahh! I didn’t need that. Then again, I asked the wife to secure me a ’50 is the new 30′ tee-shirt, so it’s all good. Cheers.