As I step ever so lightly toward another birthday this week, the one that comes “after” the milestone one we all remember our parents getting to. I am reminded again of how very different perceptions of youth, not to mention birthdays can be. I honestly don’t think about growing older. I don’t think I would trade all that I have learned, for the chance to go back and relive it. Besides, I’ve far too many adventures ahead of me yet to want to return to the blossom of my youth. Nevertheless, to each his/her own; though we joke about it, I have a dear friend (who looks much younger than I look, but is, only by a month and killer genes, I’m guessing) who has made me swear I must never allow her to be placed in a nursing home. She claims *GASP-those are for old people. She isn’t going to get old. Given that, I should never have to worry seeing her in a home for the aged, since she never plans to be old. Her humor and attitude though, is what I admire and emulate. We see ourselves as an aging Thelma and Louise, making our spur of…