I’m 50 today, and I spent the day indulging all my peculiar little birthday traditions:
~I sat up til midnight to welcome my new year of life.
~I had Mexican food, including the mandatory frosted strawberry margarita.
~Then I took down the Christmas decorations.
~And despite doing laundry and changing my bed to ladybug summer sheets because they make me inexplicably happy (hey, don’t judge), I didn’t do a lick of brain work, so that’s enough lazing off to count.
~So tomorrow it’s going to be freezing. Maybe I’ll go to the gym. maybe I’ll write. Maybe I’ll stay in and drink the dark hot cocoa that my friend Brian sent me from Chicago. With hancrafted square marshamallows. hey, I finished a dang novella the other day. If I do nothing else this month, I don’t even care.
~Oh, except I forgot: Tell-Tale Inklings for the broadsheet. Yeah, I like that.
