Here’s the thing. If you’ve followed me in any way, shape, or form in the last five or so years, you’ve probably noticed a certain vagueness as to my age. A certain je ne sais quoi about being une femme d’un certain age. (Okay, I totally abused the sense of the phrase “je ne sais quoi,” but it is such an adorable phrase that I couldn’t resist.) Well, I think it is time, in the words of Puumba, to “Put your behind in your past.” Today I turned fifty. That’s right. Half a freaking century. Born in 1963 when landing on the Moon was still an idea and not ancient history. When it came to my authorly career, I’ve been embarrassed and worried about my age. I mean, who writes about teenagers when they haven’t been one in decades? (Decades! Read more…