I don’t feel 35. I don’t act 35. But today I am 35, and if my calculations are correct Marty McFly and Doc should arrive just in time for my party tonight. Truthfully, there is no party planned. No friends coming over. That’s the crappy thing about getting older – birthdays go from annual throw downs to a simple get together at the milestone decades. I’ve started to realize I can’t hang like I used to, but neither can my friends. The nights (and wee hours of the morning) in clubs and bars have come to pass, and I look forward to a quiet night in with a glass of wine and the 80s station on the radio.