On my 19th birthday, just a week after my first son was born, my then-husband convinced me that leaving my new baby with a sitter and going to the comedy club to see Gallagher was the thing to do.
My 25th birthday was the day everyone I ever knew took the opportunity to say 'you're old, a quarter of a century.' What happen was, what they would have called it a nervous break down.
Birthday 38 was spent in the eerie quiet of the last ice storm of the 20th century.
By the 43rd birthday, my ducks were in a row... things were moving along quite well. The kids baked me a cake.
The years fly as did mine and the country's economy... birthday 47 came and went without a peep.
More than half way through a century, I found watching the sunset while sitting on a Mexican beach absolutely the best present ever.
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