If you’d seen me yesterday you might have noticed I walked around my day floating on a cloud of contentment and happiness over the outpouring of well-wishes about my birthday I received all day long. Say what you will about Facebook and Twitter and the likes, but the internet is a great place—a rich place, a warm place--to be on your birthday.

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On Sunday night, the eve of my birthday, I tucked T. into bed after stories and songs and just before I left her room she asked, “how old will you be tomorrow, Mama?”

On my way to my car yesterday, feeling grouchy and deflated, and after a full day of two long back-to-back meetings (I love my job, but I wish the powers-that-be would understand that a week of meetings and workshops right after a long and grueling semester is just not going to sit well with most people) I fell into step with an older woman headed to her car. I'd seen her around, and didn't know her, but she started talking with me anyway. She was headed out of state for a job, and to go to night school, after quitting her current job cold turkey and doing an about-face career change.

This past Sunday we finally broke free from the house and took the kids on a family trip to the library (more Junie B. Jones books--help us!) and then to this store to replace the little jeweled box of chocolates we got for L. for Valentine's Day. The dog swiped the box off his side table a few hours after he got it, and only minutes after he'd arranged all the chocolates just so in the box.