'i will sing, sing a new song...'

On my last day in my 30s, I was apparently quasi-good, sorta wise, a little brisk, a bit sweet (oh, but the bitter...), marginally sharp, eh? Kinda smart (still won't stake claims to any math genuis titles!), always hip, way out of control on the neat thing, but now? Now neater! A smidge dull. Proud, but not off-the-charts so, perhaps just a little strong mixed with a taste of bold.

But now? Well, now I'm everything with an -er tacked on the end, ladies and gentlemen! Woo Hoo!

'Twas a glorious day to turn 40. There was nakedness, flowers, pizza, cake and ice cream, money, spa gifts, the new Duran Duran cd (because in my head, damn right, sometimes I'm still 15), a hundred kisses, pencil-drawn, notebook-paper cards, telephone calls, emails, IM chats, a nice quiet lunch with myself, further nakedness, and, of course, wonderfully nice and terribly appreciated birthday greetings from all of you. Thank you for that.

Now? Now I go out with an -er. Older. Cooler. Sexier (damn right!). But I totally look 27.

Yepper.