Damn it! It's happening. I've started to become cynical about this (previously) most special of days. This day on March 25, 1969, I came to be a whole, live real human being. Since that day, every March 25 of every year, I am a princess. It is my birthday. I love love love birthdays. I love to make you feel special on your day of becoming, and I like it even more when you make me feel special on mine. Today though, I have lowered expectations, and I'm not feeling special at all. I feel irritable and pissy instead. I'm pissy that I had to get up and come to work today (well, I suppose I could have stayed home, but I didn't). I'm pissy that I've been eating so much lately that missing kickboxing class was not optional. I'm pissy that this is the last year that I get to be a 30-something MILF. As of next year, he's going to have to trade me in for two 20's! To top it off, his grandmother has the audacity to stroke out and be on the brink of death, causing us all to feel great sadness; is it selfish of me to wish for her to hang on at least one more day, so that my special day is not forever synonymous with the loss of a loved one? I do love her dearly and I'm very pleased we had her over for her favourite dinner so recently, and she is after-all 96, so she's lived a great life, but I just need her to hang on one more day....for me.

pooey!