Today my birthday week starts. As of this very instant I am 34 years old or 419 months old, or 1,825 weeks old, 12,779 days old, 306,696 hours old, or 18,401,714 minutes old. Yes, thirty five is approaching fast. I’m not one of those types of people who has a list of stuff they have to complete before they turn 40 or all their hopes and dreams will be crushed. My practical side spoke up a long time ago and decided that what I accomplish at any given date and time is simply going to have to be good enough for me in the moment, and if it’s not good enough for everyone else, I can worry about that later. So far, the last ten years of my life with Mr. MVP have been glittery rainbows and winged unicorns, so my plan is working out pretty marvelously, I think.
My birthday, however is a constant reminder that I am getting older and the window for having a castle bounce house birthday party might be closing. Maybe. Bounce houses are really fun and my neighbors would be super jealous. Sorry, birthdays make me giddy. What I have figured out in the last 12,779 days is that even though I’ve had more than my fair share of unfortunate circumstances, I’ve learned that I can turn lemons into lemonade just as efficiently as the next guy and I’m allergic to citrus fruit.
For my birthday week, I want everyone to really concentrate on being being happy and on Friday, my birthday, we can all celebrate by being more joyful and healthier humans by eating vegan cupcakes and going crazy in a castle bounce house.