Well this should be the last post about turning thirty, but who knows? It’s hard to stop writing every day when you’ve got into the swing of doing it for 101 days (ish). Maybe I just won’t stop… But more on that another time.
I celebrated my birthday three days before it happened.
I celebrated again two days before it happened.
Then again one day before.
And on the actual day.
Every one of those days was filled with lots of lovely things from my family and friends and unbelievable numbers of messages of love and affection way beyond what I deserve or expected.
You would think four days full of celebration would be enough. But returning to work and normal life as a fresh-faced, newly minted, thirty year old, thinking this would be the first day of the rest of my life, I had the delightful surprise of having flowers delivered to my desk, sent to me by five brilliant friends. Making it, not the first day of the rest of my life, but day five of my birthday celebrations. Five days! That’s one day for every six years of my life so far.
The flowers are beautiful – lilies and roses – and caused a bit of a stir in my office full of men. Let’s just say I’m a very grateful lady.