It was my birthday the other day. Sunday to be precise. I ambled - in a sweet, slow alcohol induced haze - straight into 27. Food and drink, friends and foes, wine and song. All were to be had. All gathered to celebrate. All on my account. Pretty crazy. All of my different world's colliding. Now whenever I make reference to one friend, another knows exactly who I am talking about. I have eliminated the need for providing context. Who knew? I will have to find other areas of conversation to fill the resultant gap in time.

Better expression through t-shirts. That was the theme of my party. Or rather, in the memorable words of the wise man known as Mike D, it was a fuckin' pageant, not a party. Birthday girl made a splash with her lavish eye makeup and "Spitters are Quitters" t-shirt (capped off at the end of the night by a variety of costume changes from "This Job Sucks" to "Cheap. Easy. Fun" and "Lawyers do it in front of a jury of their peers.") Yet, she was clearly not the winner. The dear friend, 3 months away from delivery, wearing the "Trust Me, I'm a Virgin" t-shirt was the hands-down victor.

Good birthday. No. Great Birthday.

Now let's make it a great year.

I should be doing work. That is a feeling I want to shake.

I want to be in love. That is a feeling I want to have.

Between ridding myself of the first feeling, and surrendering myself wholly and without reservation to the depths of the second, therein lies the answer to having it all.

"All" (as defined in my universe): A warm, safe, beautiful corner of the world where, regardless of what flurries of chaos go on around me or where I may happen to be, I carry with me the indellible feeling that I am always "home."

Simple needs. Considerate gestures. A cup of hot cocoa. A back rub. A well timed call. A "seeing you lights me up inside" smile - no matter how early or late in the day it might be. Bliss. Beaming. Proud. Support. Luckyducky.

This is what I want. This is what I need. Having waited so long, this is what I deserve. Even if I am not perfect, I deserve the - falling down, mad with passion, can't get over the fact that in the roar and bustle of the crowd I found you, pink-purple-green-blue-red-orange-with stars, stripes, spangles and glitter, laughing till my belly aches and/or milk comes out of my nose, split your Red Rope with me at the ball game, remember the kooky story I told you but laugh every time I happen to retell it, listen instead of waiting-to-talk, going to Starbucks even though you don't like it because I have an insurmountable chai tea latte problem, share - not stuff - but share you, curl up in bed on a Sunday reading the NYTimes together after being out dancing on tables the night before, hold my hair when I am sick, adore my crazy, recite "Field of Dreams" verbatim, hate mayonnaise, celebrate random days, tell the world and anyone who will listen (and even those who won't), do not just surrender but give your heart wholly and freely - kind of love.

Soon....please.