Uncharacteristically, I'm up at 6am this morning -- on this day, of all days, since you're supposed to spoil yourself on your birthday. And those who know me know that I love sleeping late and I'm not a morning person, not by any stretch of the imagination. But here I am, 2 1/2 hours before my alarm is set to go off, and I'm wide awake. Some people dread birthdays because they hate getting older. Personally, I've always enjoyed getting older because it meant that I was gaining more legal responsibilities and was able to do things that I'd been looking forward to for years. At 16, I got my driver's license. At 18, I could vote. At 21, I could drink (well, legally). At 25, I could rent a car. Once I passed 25, there really wasn't anything to look forward to anymore -- at least, I guess, until I qualify for AARP membership at 55, so I'm not really as apprehensive about turning 30 or 40 like everyone else seems to be. In some ways, getting older for me is almost a blessing because I finally feel like I'm catching up with myself. Despite the evil gleam in my eye and my constant quip that I'm just a big kid and I don't get older but my toys just get more expensive, I've always felt a little old beyond my years. And others have usually pegged me as being a few years older than I actually am -- I guess due to my mature personality. [Ed. note: You'll pardon me while I sneak off to the corner and guffaw for a minute.] But I feel like as I catch up to my "mental" age, people are taking me a little more seriously. I know, I know, it's probably all in my head, and I'm fond of quoting the late Aaliyah, who said, "Age ain't nothin' but a number." Then again, she married R. Kelly at age 15, so that renders that point a little moot. I wonder if there's any decent TV on at 6am...? Edited to add: Y'all are just plain wonderful. Thank you for all the birthday wishes. I love you all. And no, I haven't been drinking. Yet. Look at the time! It's still AM! Isn't there some kind of city ordinance that says I can't drink before noon?