Last night I fell asleep early, having been carried to bed after Andreas bathed and oiled my feet. He said the process made him feel like Jesus. If he was Jesus, then I was definitely blessed.

It was warm last night, so I woke up and opened the door at one point to let in the night breeze and the sound of our pond’s gurgling fountain. At dawn this morning, I woke up slowly to the sound of water and air — our tiny backdoor wind-chime tinkling away over the sounds of the fish in the pond. I opened my eyes and was overwhelmed by the beauty of the pre-sunrise light and the fluttering flags hanging from the eaves and really, I can’t think of a much more lovely way to start a birthday.

… Except for then rolling over to find the most beautiful, splendid man in bed with me. So splendid, in fact, that he let me wake him up and agreed to go to a morning dance class with me. (”I’m tired,” he slurred. “But I want to be with you.” He was quiet for a while so I thought he’d fallen back asleep. Then his eyes opened and he looked at me and said, “I’ll go.”) Even better: he made me tea! Then he drove us to a dance class where we both woke up our brains, bodies, spirits and emotions (it’s a NIA thing) before trundling over to Victrola for morning beverages from my (yes, my) barista.

My wonderful beloved caught the bus to work and I drove home slowly in the morning light. I got arrived home to a flood of emails — love and photos and mp3s and happy thoughts. Then the phone rang — first my father, who verbally patted me on the head as I recounted freaking out about my book yesterday, and then my mother, who wished both a happy birth day, reminding me that as her only child, May 16th isn’t only the only day that I was birthed — it was the only day she’s ever given birth.

How am I so blessed? It’s so much that all I can do is sit here and cry (sob!) over how much abundance there is in my life. Even my problems are non-issues of blessed abundance. Sometimes I kid myself and think that I somehow earned this amazing thing that is my life; that I’ve worked hard and that I somehow deserve it, or am entitled to my own joy.

This is, of course, rock solid bullshit. I live a blessed, charmed life surrounded by some of the most amazing, beautiful people in one of the most amazing, beautiful places. 31 years of it. I’m a bit overwhelmed by it all sometimes (hence the sobbing with joy — who knew I could be so maudlin?), but mostly I’m just appreciative. Thank you all for being a part of my life.