In 59 minutes, as tradition holds, even though the official entry time isn’t til later in the day, I’ll no longer be the nice, round, trendy age of 35. I don’t know why it’s trendy, but TV characters aren’t ever 36, they’re always 35. But I digress… I’m a romantic at heart, always believing that my fairytale will begin, glitter and all. I always wish for some big magical event, some wonderful sunshiney day full of good things, smiley people, and lovely flowers lining every step I take. Well, not really. But something like that, maybe. When, in actuality, birthdays aren’t a big deal around here, and that’s ok. I hope someday we’re financially sound enough to do fun, lavish kinds of things just because it’s a birthday, but for now, we say “Happy Birthday” to the celebrating individual about 50 times throughout the day, and that suffices. In all fairness, we are doing something really fun next weekend that is supposed to be representing my birthday present, and I’m looking forw