I hope everyone has picked up their copy of A STROKE OF MAGIC by our own Tracy Madison! My copy is still in transit. *Stares plaintively at Amazon*
So, this week we're talking about birthdays. I'm a little stumped about what to write today, since birthdays don't have nearly the same panache that they once did. It's kind of like: Shrug. Let's go out to dinner, maybe? But this year is a big one for me, or so everyone keeps saying, as I will leave my twenties behind this fall and enter the world of the dirty thirties. (Or flirty thirties, depending on your world view.)
A bunch of my friends are depressed about entering into this new decade. To them, thirties means real responsibilities--kids, a mortgage, marriage. Nevermind that most of them have those things anyway. I think it's because in the past, my friends have viewed thirty as The Age to Stop Screwing Around. Because your twenties are for poorly-paying jobs, hip restaurants, bad apartments and hangovers that can be killed with a cup of coffee, right?
Well, let me be the first to say that if those are the criteria, I've been in my thirties for the past three years. Having a kid and waking up every Saturday morning at 7:30am does not make one feel young. Preferring chain restaurants with lots of screaming kids so as to muffle the sound of your own little hellion does not make one feel hip. And let's just say my hangovers require an IV of coffee, Alka Seltzer and cold compresses on my head--all which are difficult to do when my son is screaming that he wants to watch Barney. Again.
So I guess what I'm getting at is that I don't fear thirty at all. I'm hoping that thirty is the magical age when people stop looking at me like a teenage mother or asking if I'm my son's nanny. Or when they stop carding me for lottery tickets and beer. (And then examining my license by holding it up to the light as though it's a fake ID.)
I always said I wanted to be published by thirty. Well, I made it, with just five months to go. I'm hoping that the next decade brings a lot more of the same--with just a little more sleep.
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4 comments:
LOL, I love your analogy on what being in your thirties means. Like you, using that analogy, I was in my thirties for years before I *actually* was. :)
Nope -- I don't think 30 is the magical age when you suddenly start looking older. I still get carded sometimes at the ripe old age of 31!!
You are so funny, Maureen. And I can't tell you how bizzare it is to look back and think about how I once thought 30 was old!!
Never grow up! Never surrender!!
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