A lot of people have been congratulating me on turning 35 (as if it's an accomplishment to stay alive past 30...which it probably is). I think what they're really congratulating me on is how free I am with admitting my age. I've never gotten the whole idea of witholding this particular vital statistics (or really any that I can think of). When you have diarrhea of the thought process like I do, you really can't afford things like pride and prudence (I didn't mean to rhyme...but that really should be the title of my book). And then there's the fact that A) I'm a horrible liar and would trip over the first thread, let alone be able to function in a web of half-truths and evasions and B) I sucked at being young. I had the opposite of the attributes generally attached to youth. I had a grandma-ish perspective on going out at night, and only took risks if they would gurantee to result in heartache or bad credit.

Life is so much more manageable now...(which isn't really saying a lot).

Just for today, I am honest about my age.