At 41....

... I laughed, danced, drank and walked down memory lane with friends who had seen me at my pimple-sprouting worst;

... I finally had the courage to do the videoke thing (and failed miserably, too);

... I became a school mom;

... I bought cellulite-erasing cream, which did anything BUT erase the cellulite;

... I paced the hospital floor while waiting for the medics' reassurance that the ugly wounds on the husband's face are nothing more than superficial bruises (they were, thank God);

... I cringed and cringed some more as Mar Roxas and Manny Villar thought they'd give "acting" a go;

... I took (most) Wednesday afternoons off just so I could catch CSI: New York;

... I realized that there is such a thing as memory gap;

... I gained weight, gained friends, gained new experiences;

... I lived, loved and laughed the way I wanted to. Most times heedlessly, at times with caution.

I will be 42 in less than two hours. No, I won't be doing my version of the next-door neighbor's plaintive "Happy Birthday, Dear Heartache." Birthdays--whether first, 42nd or 78th--are a wonderful thing. And as always, I welcome yet another 365days of discovering, rediscovering and just plain living.