That’s halfway to 50. One quarter of a century. I can finally rent a car without being charged extra for insurance. For a second there I thought I could FINALLY run for president too. Nope, that’s 35…ten more years (why would I even think that an average 25 year old American could make a good president?). DARN. If I was president now there would be free peanut butter and avocados for everyone on the planet. In another 10 years I’ll probably be a grumpy old lady and won’t want to give out free stuff…I’ll hoard it all for myself and my gaggle of children. I digress. (sidenote: I just learned the plural of “avocado” is NOT “avocadoes”…still learning even at my old age).
I actually love birthdays. I’d even argue I love other peoples’ birthdays more than my own. I love making people feel like they are the most important person in the world on their birthday…it’s goofy and fun, and being someone that turns red even when other people are embarrassed, let alone myself…it’s fun to see others blush (is that sadistic??).
I used to LOVE my birthday too. Until 25. I don’t know how I feel about it yet. I’ll let you know tomorrow.
(This was Joanna by the way. Andrew won’t be 25 until August 20th. I’m a cougar).
