I did my own hair. I never got a professional haircut or any kind of color. I'm looking forward to remedying that situation sometime in the near future.
I achieved the goal of jogging (I almost said "running" but let's not get carried away) 4 miles at a shot.
I had a book published.
I had many prayers answered with calming peace. This is not necessarily exclusive to 35, but nice anyway.
I went on a great family vacation.
I bought leather couches.
I submitted a new manuscript.
I got a speeding ticket.
I sent my oldest baby to high school and my youngest baby to kindergarten.
I wrote many thousands of words.
I got really tan by hanging out in my own backyard.
I went to a few good writing conferences.
I came to be at peace with my body. Not in love with it, you understand. Just grateful for its capabilities rather than angry at its unwillingness to look a certain way.
I let go some things that needed to be let go.
I held on tight to some friendships that I really, really value.
I fell in love with Husband again. This is also a regular occurrence. And fun.
I tried writing a book in reading order: from the beginning to the end.*
I saw my appliances, at the verge of death, resurrect and perform all their functions well.
I read a great deal of YA literature, some great, some terrible, some: meh.
I had people come to my book signings (and yes, I knew almost all of them. So what?)
And today, thirty-five is over. I wonder what's in store for thirty-six?
*It's not very good yet. Revision time!