New York, Measured in Birthdays

Tomorrow is my birthday, my eighth in New York.
I belong to the camp of people who love birthdays. Mine falls early in July and coincides with two important things: Wimbledon and blueberries. Growing up, birthday mornings consisted of watching Agassi, Graf and Sharapova, and then Federer, Nadal, Djokovic and the Williams sisters, beat nearly everyone on mowed grass while I ate big bowls of blueberries in pools of cream and took intermittent sips of bottomless coffee for