My birthday is coming up! 22 is a big number. 21 is just a lame excuse to drink, 22 is adulthood. People start having families at 22 (not me, but people). So over breakfast this morning, my mom spilled the beans about my birthday present this year: a bike! This is the one I've chosen.
It's simple, but cute and perfect for city livin' ("one day," she says wistfully). All it needs is a little basket with a cluster of fresh flowers and/or produce and a bell.
So on my daily jaunt to Target I took a look around. Every woman was pregnant. Our town is one big baby maker, full of fertile soccer moms. They have a tendency to be a little neurotic at times, but that's okay. It makes me feel safe.