For the Next Year.

Last year on my birthday, I was sooooo giddy. The nicest, most adorable guy I’d ever met gave me jewelry. I was positive–and I’m incredibly pessimistic–that on my birthday a year later, we would still be together.

Weeeelllll….we’re not. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sad about it. Mostly because not long before we met, I was finally at a place where I was really, truly 100% okay with being single for the rest of my life. So I’ve spent the past year getting back to that place because of what is going to happen next year.

Last week, I was out with a friend, and he asked why I wasn’t taking any trips this summer.

“Well, next summer, I’m going to Japan. Then I’ll come back to Omaha and buy a car. And then I’ll turn 40.”

“No. Really? You don’t look 40. And you don’t act 40.”

I asked him if that was a good thing, and he said that it was.

I’ve been thinking a lot this summer about how much I hate my birthday, especially this one, because on my next birthday, I will be officially old. I mean, when my mom turned 40, my dad got a fire permit from the Bellevue Fire Department, had someone back by the smoke alarm with a match, so that when he brought out the cake with 40 lit candles, our smoke alarm blared and everyone laughed. Message received: 40 is oooooooollllllddd.

At 40, I might as well go to a vet and have him put me down.

So I have one more year.

I’m a goal-oriented gal. I’m not always the best at follow-through, but having goals keeps me from laying on the couch watching seasons of television shows at a time. (Even though I did just that last weekend.)

And milestones, like the Day I Should Have Died and General Conference, help me set and evaluate goals and readjust if necessary. So at the risk of sounding all bucket-list-ish, here’s what the next year looks like.

  • Keep up the “running” thing. I’m thinking 75 miles a quarter, which means 350 by the end of the school year, plus another 50 before I actually turn 40, which means in just over a year, 500 miles.
  • Go to Japan. I’m saving a little, but I can ramp that up.
  • Send out something to be published. Whether it’s the book I wrote in November or just a chapter to a magazine, I’ll beg someone to publish something I’ve written.
  • Start wearing cute clothes. I look frumpy 75% of the time.
And I think that’s it.

Happy Birthday to me.

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