Yesterday was my forty-third birthday. I took the day off work and did many nice things (visited a bookstore, listened to Phoebe Robinson's new audiobook, did some painting, had pie and presents with Bill and Mabel). But perhaps the most inspiring bit of the day was an early morning date with myself for cinnamon toast and coffee at The Mill. For those not in SF, this is a very popular cafe that is usually jam-packed, but if you get there at 7:45 on a cold gray Monday morning you practically have the place to yourself. And you can write in your notebook about your big hopes and dreams and plans for the coming year (one of the beauties of having an early-January birthday is that your own personal year ahead, and the calendar year ahead, are one and the same, so you really get a jolt of motivational and inspirational energy). It was grand.
And here, in case you're wondering, is what my forty-three-year-old face looks like, without makeup or any photo adjustments, but with the benefit of really good diffused natural light:
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