Yeah, yeah, it’s my birthday.

Today I am 36.  Yesterday I found a gray hair, and a piece of my tooth fell off.  A little piece, but still.

Then my dear friend, the lovely, fecund, and irrepressible Justine Schmiesing sent me this:

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And now I feel better.

(Also, my husband woke up early and took the kids to school even though it wasn’t his turn, and he got me lots of presents with receipts, and we’re watching Dumbo for home school today, and we’re going out to my favorite restaurant tonight, and there’s coffee brewing.  But you’re not here to hear about that!)

I’m actually going to close comments so you don’t feel like you have to wish me a happy birthday.  It’s bad enough Facebook is pestering everybody about it.  Yes, I realize I could take my birth date off my profile, but – - but then nobody would wish me a happy birthday!

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