I'm only 34

So, why do I feel 84?

Friday was my 34th birthday. It was spent in the Tahoe, after getting up at the crack of dawn, covering nearly 850 miles with my speed-limits-be-damned husband at the wheel in torrential downpours with a migraine and bad coffee.

Woo-hoo! I can hardly wait to see what birthday number 35 will bring.

It wasn't all bad. Husband and the girls gave me an autographed copy of Buzz Patterson's Reckless Disregard before we left on our trip and a copy of General Tommy Franks' new book on I-40 somewhere in Tennessee on our way home. After we got home husband somehow managed to sneak in one more surprise while unloading the truck.

He asked me to look out the window and make sure the flagpole light was on. My smart-assed response was almost "you were out there for 20 minutes unloading didn't you notice." But, because my head hurt so badly I couldn't find my inherent bitchiness.

Good thing, too. Hanging under the American flag was a beautiful new Penn State flag.

I am on day number 4 - or is it 5? - of this migraine so my rants from our trip will have to wait for another day.