Today is my 36th birthday. (Yes, on 12/12/12, I turn 36, the sum of 12 + 12 + 12 — the more numerologically savvy among you will have to let me know if that has any significance.)
It’s been a good week. I sold a novel — my 19th novel sale, and my 26th book overall, counting collections/anthologies — and sold audio rights to one of my other novels. (I also had a story rejected, but you can’t win ’em all.)
Last night we secured a babysitter and Heather took me out to her favorite beer bar, and we hung out with friends and drank many fine strange beers and chatted with the bartender (a SF/fantasy fan). Afterward we got good Mexican food with a couple of friends and then wobbled home. I am only moderately hungover this morning, as I exercised a modicum of restraint, knowing I’d have to go to work today.
But even here, my boss provided savory ham/cheese/onion morning buns as a birthday treat for me — excellent hangover food. I give my 37th year on Earth a tentative positive rating so far.