So long, 37. You’ve been good to me.

Hello, 38. I hope it’s another good year.

Yep, it’s my birthday. So far, so good: a (wet) day at Versailles, followed by tea at Trianon Palace, and, soon, champagne and dinner with my girlfriends.

Some people hate birthdays. I, on the other hand, am a birthday whore. I love hearing from old friends and close family. I love planning the day and doing the things I want to do. I love being extra indulgent. And, bien sur, I love a good reason for champagne and sweets (as the card my friends Connie & Nina sent said, “Ahhh, cake! It makes it all so worthwhile.”).

But what I like most about birthdays is reflecting on the year that has passed. #37 had some low points, to be sure (food poisoning, stress, depression, losing my tooth and breaking down over the telephone with my mom), but I feel like it’s been a pretty remarkable year.

Some of my favorite moments and memories include.

The opera and ferris wheel with Mel. Bike rides and brunches with Jo. Dinners and drinks with Michael. Dorking out and getting deep with Sarah. Plus my many new friendships that have bloomed in Paris in recent months. Thank you, all.

I had wonderful visits from friends from home: Bennie, Jerem, Connie and Nina, Cheryl, Kevs and Christie, Mary and her friends. And when I was in New York, it too, too good to see my rocks: AJ, Julie and Mer; Bennie and Merrill; Mr. B; and my loves, Mitchell and Kerry. (Though many of you, I missed. Snif.)

I loved seeing my best friend get married and meeting my new godson, Max.

I loved spending Valentines with my true loves, Annika and Aidan (and Chris and Dana). Eating ice cream in the country with mom and Bob. Strolling around Brooklyn’s leafy streets with Papa.

I got to travel to New York, Uganda and Sicily for work. Arles and Lyon for relaxation. I met Tsoi in Portugal and Connie, Peasley and Butch in Italy. Plus, a couple perfect Saturdays, exploring London with Chris.

Then there were the macarons: Pierre Hermé’s Macaron Day, my Macaron Smackdown, making macarons in class, and sampling Rachel’s savory macarons at her ’80s dinner party (where I was the only chump who dressed up).

Velibing. Strolling the markets. Trying new restaurants. Trying new pastries. Taking long walks. Admiring the views. Feeling happy. Feeling lucky. Feeling alive. 38 has a lot to live up to.