There was a time when birthdays were the greatest days of the year. They were days that brought you closer to those things we covet but can earn only by patience: a seat at the grown-ups table, a driver's license, the right to vote, a legal beer. They were days when those who cared about you would gather and be merry and celebrate the fact that you were alive.

It's been a tough week. We're going to court today, and I've been working some later nights than usual. It's cold and windy and gray outside. And yes, today I'm one year closer to 30.

There aren't any celebrations today. I'll head to court with a bunch of other lawyers, and afterwards there'll be a debriefing and probably more work to do. This weekend Lisa's taking me to the Escoffier Room at the Culinary Institute of America, which I've been looking forward to for weeks, but today she's a hundred miles away. My family is even farther away. And my friends -- well, there may be a round of drinks tonight, but frankly, my friends all work too.

Tonight I think I'll go home and bake my own damn cake.