When Michael asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday, at first I said “ice skating!”. Then I remembered that I’ve been nothing but slightly ill since the beginning of January and that gravity gets a little harsher with age. I changed my mind and decided on two-stepping. I can remember younger days of visits to Tumbleweeds and Cattleman’s Stake House on a Friday night for line dancing. I am not a country music fan, but I appreciate the music and it’s fun to put on boots and scoot around a dance floor. So, I said “let’s go dancing!” and Michael agreed only if I’d buy a proper pair of cowgirl boots.

Saturday night, we had dinner at Cafe Gratitude and then made our way over to Denim and Diamonds for two step classes. We were only mildly thrown when the teacher said “OK ladies, rotate up one and switch partners.” Wait. What? I spent the next hour rotating from one older gentleman to the next each one wearing their shirt unbuttoned a bit too far and a gold chain around their necks. But it was fun. Occasionally I’d make it back around the circle to Michael and every time we’d both be so relieved and happy to see each other. We learned the basic two step with two different kinds of turns. And we had a good time. In fact, we had such a good time, that we’ve talked about going back.

And that’s how I celebrated my last few days of being 37. On Monday morning, I woke up age 38 with a horrible cough. It was the kind of cough that was violent and felt like I was slamming my body into a brick wall. By the end of the day my body actually did feel like it had been slammed into a brick wall and I was still coughing. 38 was not lookin’ too good. The next day, I coughed my way to work, but left around 10:30 for the doctor’s office. Bronchitis. A prescription for prednisone and a codeine laced cough syrup later and I’m sitting here typing in a haze. I am disappointed because I have things I want to write about, but can’t really form a clear thought to do so. I vaguely remember having some profound thought about turning 38 and how I can’t wait to turn 40. But now that thought is trapped inside one of the carbon/hydrogen rings of codeine.

Better luck next time.