It's my birthday. Ick.

The one day of the year I could cheerfully yank out of every calendar in existence.  I'm one of those people who honestly hates her birthday.  I can't begin to tell you how many times I have to stop and do math to remember how old I am and the idea of creeping closer and closer to needing a scientific calculator to work out the algebra isn't overly appealing.

I don't want to get old.  Sorry. That's just the way it's always been for me.  Of course, the alternative isn't exactly at the top of my "Things I Wanna Do" list either.  So my remaining option is a simple one.  Ignore it and maybe it'll get the hint and go away.

So far it's been a colossal failure, but I keep trying.

I'm relatively new to Facebook. I think I opened my account about 9 months ago, but I'm not sure.  Much to my chagrin, it appears that Facebook announces to everyone on your friends list when it's your annual turn to step closer to needing Depends.  Now my page is crammed full of these lovely little messages wishing me a great day and much laziness.

Nope.  Not giving in.  Still hate my birthday.

Steve snuck out of the house with a hasty peck on the cheek and one of his "I'm up to something" smirks.

Well... maybe it's not all bad... 

No.  Not gonna crack.  Hate hate hate.....

Oh geez.  Sarah just sent Heather and Hunter up here one after the other to say "Happy Birthday, Mommy" and give me hugs and kisses.  Awwww!!

Oh phooey.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ME!!!