I feel like I should make one of those lists . . . forty things to do before I'm forty . . . or some other nonsense. Then again, would I feel guilty for not doing things on the list? Would I feel stressed and pressured to check things off a list and miss the simple daily pleasures of the next five years? Probably.
So, no list.
Just another day.
Beginning with a trip to the farmer's market.
Making a flourless chocolate cake. (Yes, making my own cake, but I'd rather make a delicious flourless cake myself than eat anything else. Not a fan of regular cake.)
Maybe a movie with my man.
Ending with an evening of Hemingway, Manchego, and Spanish wines and an Artwalk.
35 is good.