Since it's the last year I can say that, I'm saying it LOUD and I'm saying it PROUD.
Does that sound old or what?
Thanks to my lovely head cold, 39 feels like the new 59.
I can't really complain, though. Thirty-eight was pretty good to me.
I ran my first 10ks, half-marathons and one Big Honkin' Marathon.
I got down to a size 6.
My husband still loves me. I think.
My snoring and recent affair with my box of Kleenex might send him over the edge.
I killed a ginormous mutant spider in my son's room. All by myself. Because David wasn't home, leaving me to fend for myself.
I made great new friends.
I said goodbye to my father.
I hosted my mother - twice - for five days. And survived.
I raised $5,000 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and delivered an SUV-full of baby stuff to a very needy family.
I bought into a business and hosted my first home workshop.
I got some freelance gigs.
I ran 12 - or was it 14? - miles with a severe sinus infection.
I listened to my "mommy gut" and got Sage speech therapy.
I got new boots. Today. Wanna see?
I took risks.
I did something for myself.