Last week I posted on facebook about my upcoming birthday. I’m turning forty-five at the end of the month and finding myself unusually bothered about it. Really that I am bothered at all is unusual. I didn’t blink when I turned thirty or when I turned forty. It’s not even that forty-five feels old, exactly, it just feels … something I can’t quite place. Weird. Uncomfortable. Different.
I love the honesty in your writing, and I sympathize with the emotional angst of certain birthdays. Thinking way outside the box, did you know that you can rent goats for a party, and you get to keep the goat poop to use for fertilizer? I don't know their prices, but you can't be sad around goats. https://partygoats.com/index.html. Riva