It's a big day for me

Today I am 9,001 days old.

Someone somewhere I'm sure is having a party for me. They might not know the party is for me, but it is. In case you wanted to know how I know that (because I obviously didn't do the math, let's be honest) you can go to the Birthday Calculator.

I think it's fantastic that both Al Gore and Christopher Walken share my birthday. I'm not sure why but I just do.


"There are 130 days till your next birthday
on which your cake will have 25 candles."



Dear Birthday,

Twenty-Five, for some reason, I don't mind. I suppose when we have this discussion at 45, my tune will likely change... and I might not like you. That is, if scientists don't declare our bodies inferior first and I transfer myself to pure energy and you have to literally have this discussion on the internet. Because that's where I'll live. FOREVER. Yes 20 years = 200 years to me. That's how little concept I have of a time where I'll actually even start to consider myself old. Until then I am looking forward to you, birthday. I still like you plenty.

Love, Ann.



While I'm writing letters...



Dear Gingerbread Latte from Second Cup,

You taste like Christmas. Especially with a strawberry jam shortbread cookie. I wish I could have you everyday, but I'd be too jacked up and all my Christmas presents would look like a two elephants wrapped them. I'm already pretty bad at wrapping. I'm up to a 2nd grade level right now.

Love, Ann.



Dear B Vitamins,

You make my pee glow in the dark. I think that's weird.

Regards, Ann.