I had a birthday yesterday, and it was wonderful. I have a bunch of lovely, kind, hilarious friends who I am so happy to share my life with in this city, and they put together a great little evening for me. I got to give out drink tickets (potentially the most powerful job in the world) and Tiff had cupcakes made with my face on them. I have never been on a pastry before, and it feels pretty good.

I am finishing up packing right now, and taking care of a few last things before I jump on the plane. I am going to meet my mom in Paris, and I can’t wait to see her and eat all the croissants. The last time I was in Paris, I was heartbroken and drunk shopping. This will be better. My dad joins a few days later and our European adventure begins!

I sort of feel like I should say something about age or being older and knowing things, but I don’t feel like I have any real wisdom to share with all of you who didn’t ask. I guess one of the best things about being not 22, is that I know how much I don’t know, and that’s fine. I spent a lot of my life trying to prove I was smart enough or cool enough, and the 32-year-old in me is tired of all that business, and maybe wants to sit down and have a snack. It’s nice.

So thank you to everyone who has made my birthday so lovely. Your calls, messages and hugs mean the world to me, and I really appreciate you all taking the time to say something nice on my birthday. You have effectively inflated my ego to an unreasonable size, and will soon become a self-obsessed monster. You did this.

I love you guys.