Someone's getting older soon.

Here I am. 27. Getting ready to rock at Middle Sister's wedding.

I've never liked the concept of getting older. Just like how it falls into "change" - it's something I could do without. How did someone so spastic about not being in control of her life come about? I don't know. Obviously I blame my parents. But I don't know which side it came from. So until someone throws the other under the bus - or it's announced I'm the milk man's baby (which would be hilarious when I clearly look like my dad with his huge eyes and I look like my mom and her ginger hair) - I blame both.

Muhahaah - competition between the 'rents...

Anyways, back to my birthday. It's in exactly a week. For the last couple months, I've been excited. It seems like I've always had better "even" birthdays. 27 was different in that we just relocated cross-country, I wasn't working, employment was looking scarce, and I was just feeling overall left out from the great career chase that so many get to do that aren't attached to the military.

But maybe my tune has changed. 28 is feeling like a lucky number. That and it's the last even number before my balls drop super saggy and I hit that nauseating age of 30 where you're expected to have everything together, never get drunk, and keep the best house.

Umm...how about none of those?

Life will never be perfect since my job will change more than Kevin Federline has children, Mr. Wookie will be here for some holidays and gone for others, and my mom will always consider me old (umm...jokes on her...).

There is an upside to my birthday though. Christmas is right around the corner. Even with that pesky we-gave-infected-blankets-to-the-Natives holiday is in the way.

Let's get this birthday week started. I want a bottle champagne, a steak dinner, and a small cake to celebrate. That's it.

Yes, I'll share the steak and cake. I don't know about the bottle yet...