I never thought the day would come, but here it is: I have officially outlived Kurt Cobain.

Today is my 28th birthday.  I’ve waited ALL YEAR for August 4th, and it’s finally here.  Not to make a big deal out of it or anything, but… okay fine.  I am the birthday girl!  Yippee!

I’m so glad to be 28.  The only thing that makes me a little bit sad is that I can no longer refer to my birthday as being “one score and seven years ago” – because that was clever of me, wasn’t it?

Probably not as clever as it sounded in my head.

In all seriousness, sometimes I think that I’m the luckiest girl in the world.  I am surrounded by the world’s best humans – ones that draw out the good, and sit with me in the ugly, and love me regardless.  I have a job that I really like with people that I really love.  I have a body that works and does everything that I need it to do.  I have the sweet serenity of words and books and songs.  I have amazing, life-giving opportunities to pursue the things that bring me joy.  I have a home with hardwood floors and a dishwasher and tall trees outside the windows.  I have an abundance of quiet – which is never to be taken for granted.  I have a humidity-free summer.

A HUMIDITY-FREE SUMMER.

I have nephews who, last night, asked for the story of “Beauty and the Beast” in its entirety, and then wrapped their little arms around my neck and told me that they love me.  And then this morning, sang me “Happy Birthday” with their sweet voices.  And then asked if I was wearing a wig.  And then told me that the man emblazoned across the tush of their underwear was “General Obi-Wan Kenobi.”  And then yelled at each other to stop singing while going to the bathroom.

And for some unknown reason, I have you coming back to this space on a regular basis, reading along and offering more to me than I have ever offered to you through these cockamamie posts.

Most importantly, I have hope in my heart – and hope is just another word for “something wonderful is about to happen.”

So here I am.  28-years old, the luckiest girl in the world, with hope in my heart.  Something wonderful is about to happen.

I am never allowed to complain about anything, ever.

It’s Friday, and there’s no humidity in Colorado, and last night I walked 10 miles instead of my normal 7.  I’ve hung out with friends (I have friends!) the last two nights in a row, and tomorrow I’m taking my family on a date.  It’s a fantastic hair day and I’m caught up on “Lost” and I’m thinking about buying myself some flowers.  I spend each morning before work on my amazing couch with a cup of coffee and some delectable reading, before heading to an office where I stare out at the Denver skyline.  The Honda still starts every time.  Mom’s eyelashes are starting to grow back.  I have plane tickets to go see friends, and have some good ones coming to see me.  I’m happy where I am, and excited for where I’m headed – because what I have outweighs what I lack, and always has.

Lately, I’ve been smiling so much that my cheeks hurt.

I hope you feel the same way, and soak up a weekend full of simple wonders.  My life is full of them – and today, I’m choosing to remember it.

… in reverse order:

Christmas (duh)

Thanksgiving (double duh)

A destination-to-be-determined trip in October

Kyle & Emily’s wedding

Josh & Meg’s wedding

A visit from Christina

A mountain climbing vacation…

… with these dear boys

Brook & Cara’s wedding

A Gretchen Peters show

A visit from Josh & Meredith

Sarah’s college graduation

A Sugarland concert

And, of course, being present in the moment, whatever it is that I’m doing.  Right?  Right.

Steady on.

One night last fall, I came home to find a package from my friend Dani.  I opened it up, and – SCORE! – homemade granola!  Belying my civilized charade, I promptly ripped open the bag and poured it directly into my mouth.  Yes, like a savage.

Except it was not granola.  It was oatmeal.

Shocking.

But you know what?  I didn’t even mind that it was dry oatmeal coating my mouth – because it was THAT GOOD.  Or, at least, it was better than pouring dry Quaker Oats directly into my mouth – one hundred times better than pouring Target’s Market Pantry oatmeal into my mouth!  In fact, if I were ever to pour dry oatmeal into my mouth again, I would hope for oatmeal like Dani’s.

This is all to say that Dani and her family make some DELICIOUS cereal – whole grain and hearty and healthy.  And this is your lucky day – because Burning Daylight Foods is putting together an Easter basket full of scrumptious breakfast goodies, and YOU could win it!

All you need to do is leave a comment saying something – anything – about breakfast.  It could be something like, “I love Corn Flakes,” or “i can haz eggz?” or “I stole the Nun Bun.”

Comments will close tomorrow at 5pm Denver time – or, you know, whenever I remember to close them.  And then, using high-tech means, a winner will be chosen.

It could be you!  Seriously, this is the easiest contest ever.  It’s like taking candy from a baby – except the candy is cereal, and the baby is a cowgirl in southern California.

Remember that time in 4th grade when my class had a contest to see who could best sing Bryan Adams’ “(Everything I Do) I Do It For You”?

I suppose I haven’t mentioned it yet.

Any willing participant had a chance to stand in front of the class with the Walkman headphones on and sing along with Bryan, to the cheers or jeers of her peers.

This was obviously very awkward.  First of all, whoever was singing was the only one who could hear the track; to the 30 other people in the room, all they were hearing was an unaccompanied, nervous, pre-adolescent warble.  Secondly, we were 10-years old.  The most passionate thing I could think of was footsy.  However, as I remember vividly, this didn’t stop one girl from closing her eyes and feigning Whitney Houston.

Yeaaaah, I’d fight for you… [fist pump]

To me, Bryan Adams remained frozen in memory, frozen in time, in that Pomona Elementary classroom – that is, until last year when my friend Duane reintroduced me.

Oh, friends.  What I had been MISSING OUT ON all those years.

Duane knows me well enough to know that he would need to be sneaky, so he started by sending me a few songs that our guy Bry had written with Gretchen Peters – one of my favorite writers in the history of the universe (remember, I wrote about her here).  From the first tentative listen to those tracks, all doubt was blown away:

Bryan Adams is where it’s at.  His songs are fantastic.

I have a short list of people that I have to see in concert someday – and in addition to Patty Griffin (which will FINALLY happen at the end of this month), Shania Twain, and Phil Collins, Bryan Adams has earned his place.

And I just felt like declaring it to the world.

I am on vacation in Seattle, and my heart is so happy I could cry.

Last night, as Greta and I were settling in to go to sleep, she asked if she should wake me up in the morning.  In a moment of Shakespearean inspiration, what I meant to say was, “I’m sure I will rouse at the sound of you.”  But what I actually said was, “I’m sure I will arouse at the sound of you.”  We giggled.  I’m still giggling, actually – here at Zoka coffee shop, all alone, laughing at my computer screen.

I just finished running in the rain around Green Lake 4 times.  For those of you keeping score, that is 11.2 miles.  I am flabbergasted at my own resolve and dedication these days, because there was a time that I couldn’t run 4 laps around a track, let alone a 2.8 mile loop.

Sorry to not have anything more sparkling to share (although, seriously: AROUSE!).  But frankly, my dears, I have places to be, and a haircut to enjoy.  Happy Valentines Day!

And no, not because it’s been so awful.

Only because nobody else could ever, ever compare.

I will always be a JAM girl.

And now, excuse me while I go weep.

For as much as I love cheese – which, trust me, my devotion is infinite and everlasting – I rarely eat grilled cheese.  Chalk it up to just another childhood overdose – I never eat peanut butter & jelly, either.  Grilled cheese lost its appeal before Clinton took office.

Which is why it was shocking that yesterday, I had the chance to eat a grilled cheese for lunch – and I jumped at it.  Like, I literally sprung out of my chair and made a beeline for the kitchen.  See, my co-worker Delaney is a dazzling maker-of-all-foods, and she brought a griddle!  To work!  To make grilled cheeses!  And if this woman makes something, it is a guaran-freaking-tee that I will love it.

I’m serious.  Remember how Ritz Cracker Cheese Sandwiches are my secret shame?  Delaney has actually taken these bite-sized wonders and made them into a gourmet snack.  She shakes some sort of herby goodness all over them, and I swear, they could be served to the Queen of England.

After experiencing this woman’s brilliance yesterday, I can positively say that I am back in the saddle when it comes to grilled cheese.  She has renewed my hope, my faith, my confidence in the sandwich.  Thank you, Delaney, for pointing me toward the truth.

Now, to make my own.  I’m looking for grilled cheese tips, if anyone has any…

When this life, this world, this Whole Thing is all over, and we have the chance to look back on the story that was our life, I honestly believe that we won’t experience it as a narrative, but that we will hear it as a song – the most beautiful, sad, triumphant song ever written, played, or sung.

I may not be able to dream up a story that could convey the simultaneous joy and sorrow that swirl together in this life – it’s too complicated, too nuanced. It’s both dulcet and raucous, soothing and raw; words could never get it just right.

But I do believe that music could.

THAT is why I love music – because our stories cannot adequately be told through words alone.

And all those songs that I have ever started and then abandoned, with no idea for which direction to take them? One day, they’ll come together like puzzle pieces. I will see the picture I can’t see now. I will hear the songs – complete, whole, perfect, and true.

I believe that.

The work that has been started is going to get finished, and the song is going to end with the most beautifully complicated, conquering chord ever (and never) imagined. We will hear notes that have yet to exist to our ears.  Everyone will sing along, instinctively knowing the harmonies and the counterparts.

And most likely, Alison Krauss will sing the descant.

Judge me if you will, but I plan on bawling my eyes out when I see Jessi Alexander sing Miley Cyrus’ “The Climb” at the Bluebird tonight.

That song makes my heart burst.

Speaking of my heart bursting, yesterday, I received a rogue voicemail that somehow wound up in our queue at work from a little old lady wondering if we could tell her when “Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?” would be on.

The highlight of my day was being able to call her and let her know that in St. Louis, it would be on at 6:30pm on channel 2.