Today I turned 39 (for the first time). When I was a kid, I calculated that in the year 2000 I would be 32–ancient!–and wondered if I’d still be young enough to appreciate the new millennium. Um. Heh.

I’m afraid that I’m going to have to buck the trend and admit that I’m a lot happier as an aged crone than I was as a sweet young thing. (Saggier, maybe, but happier.) To paraphrase something Scott Adams said recently, people tend to feel that “aging” is automatically bad, but the accompanying perks–having more self-confidence and fewer zits–seem to me like an excellent tradeoff. And frankly, if you told me I could have my 19-year old body again, but I had to take my 19-year old brain with it, I’d tell you to forget it.

I love my husband. I love my family. I love my job. I love my life. And I love being 39.

So I’m going to borrow Scott’s suggestion. For my birthday, I want you to send someone an e-mail and tell them how much you appreciate them. Do it right now. Then tell me about it in the comments. That’s what I want. It’s my birthday so you have to do it.

Go.