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51? Okay…

I am about to enter my 52nd year. Here are the monumental things that I’ve learned in the past 370 days:

The news is still terrible. My daily goal is not to make it worse.

I put half & half in my coffee now. WHO KNEW IT WAS SO DELICIOUS?

Instead of dessert after every meal, I keep it to once a week. Apparently, sugar is bad for you.

If you’re depressed, it helps to read something outside your realm, maybe even out of your depths. For me, that’s been jewelry, economics, and French philosophy. This didn’t make me smarter. In fact, I would still fail economics today, but I am way more pretentious now.

I’ve kicked my bad habit of going to Old Navy and buying shit that I only wear once. I hear Brooks Brothers is nice.

What has happened to my hair? Please advise.

My parents drilled into me the importance of doing chores. But since I’ve given up my bad Old Navy habit and will try to cook, I bargained with God who said it was okay to pay someone to clean the apartment.

Now I understand what Nora Ephron meant about her neck, but screw it. I am not a moviestar (yet).

The colonoscopy was not so bad. Having the stomach flu is way worse than the prep, but it’s comparable to IBS. The propofol was AH-MAY-ZING and I’m lucky to have health insurance.

I complain about little things now and I hate it.

When crimes are committed by people in our government, are there any repercussions? Just wondering, since I’m planning how to live my next life.

Sandwiched between light-hearted issues is grief. One of my precious elders died this year. When I think about him, it dawns on me that he’s really gone. He won’t call me “Space-tience” or help me make parallels between now and Ancient Rome (see what I said about being pretentious). Luckily, I still hear him in my head. Hic, haec, hoc, Mr. Cobb!

More and more, I sound like my mom, but she’s hilarious so that’s okay.

The Americans is so good–and eerie as hell. Under no circumstances do I think about exercising to the extent that I could look like Keri Russell. Instead, I ponder the Reagan years and how they contributed to today’s geopolitical (?) distress. Discuss.

Leopard prints. So maybe I went to Banana Republic and bought some embarrassing new pants I’ll only wear once (BR lets you use Old Navy credit card!!!).

With each year, my list of errands seems to grow. Is this real or a fabrication? I wonder what would happen if I didn’t run errands for a week.

I think about the children in cages every single day. I don’t even know what to say about this. It breaks my heart every day. If I had any skills, I would use them. For now, I just write a check.

This thought began in my twenties. If suddenly I had to live on a deserted island, would I be okay? There are a few things I would have to pack. Am I packed? Oh God, I should pack just in case. Friends, this is why my purse is so heavy.

I wrote another book but I’m afraid to admit it.

Fear of flying is gone. Fear of before-flying is the same.

Every day, I still wonder how I lucked out with Sam as my partner in crime. I can’t believe it–STILL. He cracks me up daily and is just so dreamy. Do I love him more than I did when he first stepped off the plane on December 17, 2009 for our first date? Yes, 10 years more!

And this is where I say that I don’t care about my birthday so much. My best birthday gift is to keep hanging with my loved ones and not worry so much (that it could all disappear). I still want cake, though.