thoughts on my birthday

I love my birthday. I always have, and I probably always will. I don't care that it means I'm another year older (although, can I really be 27? Is that possible???) . . . I just love the day. Since I have a summer birthday, I never had to spend it in school (which I think would really stink). And in my house, birthday kids never had to do any work--so I always hoped that Dad would decide beans needed to be picked, cans needed to be crushed (my most hated chore ever), or we'd have particularly nasty dishes that day. Selfish and spiteful, I know, but I always loved it when my siblings had to do those chores but I got out of them because it was "my" day.

Admittedly, my birthday is not quite as much fun now that I have to spend it working. But it's still great. From my coworkers wishing me a happy birthday to my sister bringing me coffee and a rose (from my mom) to a birthday email from Melissa in my inbox, it's been as good a birthday as it could be, considering I'm at work!