Here is a known fact about me. I tell everyone that I am 32 years old. I have been telling people that since, well, since I was 32 years old. Obviously my husband knows this is not true. The Boy knows this is not true. The Short Chic has not yet figured it out but she is highly suspicious and will probably figure it out next month when I turn 32 again. Here is another fact but this one you probably don't know. My being "32" makes my Momma mad. Not like mad like I am mad about chocolate. Like crazy ridiculous mad. I do not know why. But over the years I have found that she will take whatever step she can whenever she can to make sure to tell everyone that I am really not 32 years old. So, let me be straight, I know I do not look like I am 32. I do not think I look as old as I am but I seriously doubt that I am fooling anyone when I say I am 32. So, why claim to be 32? Thirty-two was when so many things in my life came together. My dad died when I was twenty-nine, I...