The Wisdom of a Quarter Century...or something like it.

I'm 25 years old? Honestly, I had to do the math. It seems every year the number means less and less, what does matter to me is what I get out of each birthday (and I don't mean the presents).

What I've gathered in a quarter of a century:

Water is the first ingredient in the Fountain of Youth and is my beverage of choice (thanks, Dad! It only took 25 years, but I got it!)

Cold cereal is, and always will be, appropriate at any time of day (retired, on a beach in Mexico, 1 am; I'll be there eating a bowl of Kix).

Jackie O. was right: Pearls are always appropriate. I wear pearl earrings to clean my house!

Life is too short to not live it with passion. Do what you love and happiness will follow. Likewise, money does not ensure happiness.

Baby laughs are the second ingredient in the Fountain of Youth.

Beauty is not 6' anything, size 2, blonde, or free of blemish. It doesn't wear heels or vintage dresses. Beauty often doesn't have a thing to wear and hates its' hair when it is running late. Beauty forgot long ago what a toned tummy looks like because it is too busy cooking or fixing the washer. Beauty is not vain, but confident. Beauty is a belief.

Heavenly Father knows everything, sometimes he lets me in on His secrets.

P.S. Those "secrets" aren't really secret at all, but every now and then I get smart enough to open my eyes to what's in front of me.

I can appreciate the rough patches in life like I appreciate an ominous thunderstorm: there's beauty to be found if you look hard enough. It makes me appreciate the sunshine that much more, reminds me of the essentials (umbrella, dry socks), and leaves a whole lot more potential for growth and beauty than there was before.

Cheater! Caught...I refused to play along at first.

Ben told me, "Get in the car and don't ask questions." Just for that I asked about a thousand. 

We went up to beautiful Huntsville for a special birthday dinner with the Huggards. Spaghetti. No forks, no hands. Ugh. I struggle at the best of times to eat neatly; this was my worst nightmare and also great fun. (Believe it or not this isn't the first time I've been asked to eat spaghetti without a fork...just the first time without my hands. Utah tradition? Hmmm.)