Today is a milestone in my life: Exactly 21 years ago, I attended my very first concert. I saw Whitney Houston (on tour for "Whitney," ages before she met Bobby Brown and discovered that crack was whack) at the Hollywood Sportatorium (which is no longer there).

It was quite a momentous occasion. I went with three cousins and my uncle. I remember were had horrible seats, but we sang out hearts out all the way home in the car. After all, we were 13. And that's what 13-year-olds do, right?

Which brings me to another almost-milestone: In exactly six months, I will be 35.

I understand that half-birthdays don't really count for anything, but it's usually at the midpoint between my previous birthday and my next birthday that my mom starts saying she has a daughter who's "almost (fill in upcoming age here)."

This annoys me like you wouldn't believe.

Here I am, finally feeling like a pro at being 34, and I'm already being kicked up to 35? I don't think so.

So, I guess this is the official beginning of the countdown to 35. I usually don't start the countdown until after my sister's birthday has passed at the end of March, but I'm willing to make an exception this year.

After all, it's gonna be a big milestone for me. I might as well enjoy it for as long as I can. The next one will be 40, and no one celebrates that anymore, right?