Another year, another birthday.

Another year has gone by, and for the 24th time, I survived my birthday.

Some years are easier than others – and I'm not talking about the year, I'm talking about my birthday itself. I'm not a big fan of my birthday, even though my mother wants to disown me when I say that. Part of it is that I don't like being the center of attention when I've done nothing more than being born. (I mean, let's be honest, my parents have a lot more to do with my birthday than I do. The only thing I've done to deserve a birthday is not die.) And part of it is that if I had my way, I'd spend my birthday in relative solitude, and people always make me feel quite guilty when I say I want no party or hoopla.

But anyway – this year was wonderful. All it takes is a few friends, in very small groups, and baked goods. Yes, baked goods.

I'd go all retrospective about the last year and where I was one year ago today, or I'd get all hopeful about where I'll be a year from now.

But I won't. Let's just say that things are good right now, and that's all I can focus on now – and all I should focus on.

So here's to not the next year, not the next month, but the next day.

Happy no-longer-birthday! 'Cause every day should be happy, not just one out of every 365. (Or 366 every 4th year...)