It never fails. On the first day of December, my husband starts reminding “someone’s got a birthday coming up.” I cringe. The someone is me. I cringe, not because I dread getting older. That part doesn’t really bother me; I am now at the stage of life where I am looking forward to becoming that crazy old Southern woman that shocks people. No, the part that bothers me is that my birthday is the week before Christmas. You folks with birthdays in other months just do not understand this pain.