You're only young once. After that you have to come up with another excuse.*

* I'm sure I must have read that somewhere. Anyone know who said it besides me?

November 2 was my birthday. Yippee. Last year (2009) was momentous because I turned 45. Yet, other than hiding the birthday year on my facebook page, it really wasn't a big deal.

But this... 46. WTF? Thank you. I know. I don't look a day over 44. I've been obsessed with my age over the last few days. Weeks. Okay, months.

A man has every season while a woman only has the right to spring. That disgusts me. ~ Jane Fonda

My husband—although no more mature than he was when I first met him in our 20′s—is getting better looking with age. While I grow hair on my upper lip. Well, that's what my 9-year old son tells me.

This particular birthday—another year closer to 50—is, well, freaking me out. I find myself wondering who the F am I and WTF am I doing? All of which happens to coincide with one of my hormonal 'moments' (which can last a day, a week–sometimes longer–and include irritation to music, talking, household duties, making myself look presentable and just about anything else you can think of).

Age is not a particularly interesting subject. Anyone can get old. All you have to do is live long enough. ~Groucho Marx

Okay, that makes me think, what's interesting about me? I write, play piano, am able to draw pretty damn well, eat healthy and organic as much as possible (is that interesting?). I may be on my way to being the crazy lady with a zoo of animals and insects: I allow spiders to take up residence in our household