Confessions of a Former Addict

birthday cakeI admit it. I’m a junkie. Not on drugs or alcohol nor really anything that’s bad for me (unless you consider aging and self-indulgence vices). I’m addicted to birthdays. And not just anyone’s birthdays…MY birthdays.

I don’t doubt that there are people out there who suffer this addiction far worse than I—in fact, I’m sure Pintrist will prove me right—but hey, I’m a Scorpio and my kind are notorious for basking in the limelight. Just ask any of the former Scorpio Fest members from the late ‘90s (Dani Ghiradella, Ari Kambas, you know who you are).

But you don’t need to worry about me, I’m in recovery. More

There Are No Words

candlelight vigilYesterday my husband and I buried our good friend, Mei Kum Jones.

On either side, we also buried her twin baby boys, Colt and Cameron, who would have turned one today. It was unspeakably difficult on many levels.

A week ago,  my closest friend called me from her home in Arlington and asked me to confirm Mei’s address. Not one for sensationalism, this friend told me nothing had been finalized yet but that a family of four was reported dead at that address, which was just around the corner from her house. This information was both shocking and chilling and since I was behind the wheel of my car at the time, I called my husband.

After all, if it hadn’t been for Mei, my husband and I might never have met at that fateful Christmas party 13 years ago. More

Happy Birthday from All Your Friends at Facebook

My birthday is on Sunday.

In the past—as in pick-a-year BC [before children]—I would have started celebrating five days ago, a whole birthweek leading up to that special day. Carte blanche to dine out, grab drinks with friends, pamper myself, get a pedicure, maybe even take a day off from work. Instead, this year I’ve been working overtime.

DH has been pulling crazy hours at the office, sometimes rolling in at 1 or 2am, then gone again right after breakfast. I’ve been dining in, drinking cough medicine alone, pampering my offspring and keeping my feet in slippers. Writing deadlines have eaten up all of my kid-free time and instead of getting a pedicure, I got pneumonia instead.

It’s a far cry from birthdays past and certainly nothing like last year, when at least I had a surprise birthday More

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