i've been secretly reading an an old friends blog, and she had written a piece about growing old, and fully realizing that she was, in fact, getting older. sometimes, depending on my mood, this is a pleasant realization, but usually, it's a thick punch in the stomach, that causes me to run to the nearest bed and hide, shaking under the comforters.
and yet, as i sit here, waiting for my loverly husband to cook breakfast at 1pm on a saturday, listening to npr, drinking whole leaf green tea, and wondering which knitting project i should start on today...i think, huh, this isn't so terribly bad at all.
maybe it was my recent new years eve experience (which is a story in itself, but summed up, it basically consisted of ernie and i going to an illadvised party on cape cod, with many teenagers, two kegs, and some yagermeister and when we lied to a butterfaced little 18 year old and told her that we were 23 and 25 years old, she looked at us with her little drunken eyes and said, "oh, that's ok", as if we had just told her that we both had cancer), that caused me to not, in any way, miss my youth...maybe it's my two (count'em), two therapist..who knows.
so, being 30, not having done many of the things that i was most positive that i would do in my youth, i honestly don't think that i would go back. i am happy sitting her in my robe, husband frying up some veggie sausage, sipping on my obsessively brewed whole leaf green tea, and waiting patiently for 'this american life' to come on while i do my laundry.
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