I turned 35 this week. I’m really not quite sure how this happened. At first, seeing this age next to my name was a bit like those instances when you get your credit card bill and say, “Hey, there’s no way I spent this much money this month,” only you know, even before you get out that fine-toothed comb, that you really have. Somehow, I’ve raced through 35 years’ worth of time.
Some cool stuff I got:
* A Kindle cover. Now, I get to retire that sheet of Bubble Wrap I was using to protect it inside my purse. Nobody’ll snicker at me when I haul the thing out in public to read.
*A giant silver piggy bank (he’s so cute, I’m gonna wanna feed him). I named him Ponzi.
* The realization that I am right now in the very place I would have given my eye teeth to be, four years ago.
It’s so easy (for me, at least) to always be looking at some distant prize, dancing on the horizon somewhere. This week, though, I was reminded that four years ago, I had yet to land any sort of deal with anyone—publisher, agent, etc. Although I did have a fabulous hole in the drywall, where I’d been knocking my head against the office wall…Which brings me to the coolest gift of all, which arrived in droves:
* Happy Birthday wishes, from readers and fans via Twitter, Facebook, my website, and my various email addresses. I always say the best gift is just a, “Happy Birthday.” And I got so many this year, it brought a tear to the eye…Thanks, guys. Seriously.
I wound the day down with a performance from my favorite musician, Will Hoge, on Kimmel. Get this—he sang “Too Old to Die Young.” Come on. How perfect is that?