36 years

I turned 36 yesterday. And I have to say I don't feel a lot older. That's why I am not embarrased to say my age.

Birthdays and years don't really make me feel older.

• The gray hairs I keep finding every week make me feel a little older
• The 30 pounds I need to lose make me feel older and unhealthier -- that is my gift to myself this year -- lose the weight.
• The fact that my son is going to be a deacon in four months makes me feel a little older.
• The fact that I am afraid to go sledding down a hill makes me feel older. Although Tom remedied that last time I took the kids sledding. I sitting down on a sled and he snuck up behind me and pushed me down the hill, Turkey.
• The fact that I have absolutely no fear of being hit on by another man makes me feel old. I almost laughed Tom into oblivion when I walked into one of the sport's bars at the resort in Costa Rica (I needed a late night snack) and Tom said "don't let anyone hit on you." That was funny because. . . seriously, do I need to elaborate why.

And yet there are some things that remind me I am still young.

I can still learn new things.

This year I learned to bake bread and paint. It is never too late to learn a new skill

I can still pursue my dreams:

This past year I started my own business.

I have a very silly four-year-old and am therefore sometimes surrounded by her friend's young moms.

Sometimes I catch myself dancing in the kitchen and I feel young again.

Really, 36 is not that old.