27

I just about an hour, I will officially be 27.

Somehow, 27 seems much, much older than did 26—it’s that much closer to 30 (which, thanks to Lindsay, I am totally looking forward to!)—but it’s not really.

It’s been a bit of a crazy year: I went from doing well to a crazy flare and back again; I went from hating my job and actively looking for something else to getting promoted and turning down other opportunities; the mister and I celebrated three years of marriage; and I’m coming up on about 13 or so years with psoriasis and 7 years with psoriatic arthritis.

Today, though, I’m not thinking about any of that. I’m just enjoying time with the mister and my in-laws, getting a mani-pedi and some Starbucks (my relaxation fix of choice) and being grateful that I’m alive and in relatively good health.

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suddenly, i’m not so young

Yes, that’s right. It’s my birthday. I share this awesome occasion with a bunch of famous people, including Emily Bronte, the Govenator and fellow Canadian Tom Green.

I feel like I should write some sort of “State of the Union” type post, but I’m about to hurry off to a tasty dinner with some friends.

Still, what I’m looking forward to most about my birthday is how my husband and I will be celebrating tomorrow: with frozen yogurt for lunch! Nom nom nom. And yes, those are delicious blackberries and M&M’s as toppings.

So, happy birthday to me!