La treinta.

Well, I did it.

Or rather...it happened. There was nothing I could do about it, really.

I did see it coming. I watched it's approach for awhile. The Inevitable.

I was curious. And I tried to prepare:

I bought an actual women's wallet and purse. I started wearing high heels and listening to talk radio. I moved across the country for a job. With a salary. I bought a giant piece of art and went antiquing without my mom.

It's a Monet.

Sometimes I wear a skirt to be comfortable. I've been working on singing alto - you know, for that time when soprano is no longer reachable - and I've started receiving advertisements for "people my age".

I'm not kidding. This showed up in my inbox recently. It's never too late to fall in love. Unless it's past 7pm.

I also picked up shuffleboard.

"Many times I've asked myself whether there is anything in the world that could crush my frantic, indecent appetite for life, and have decided that it looks as though nothing of the sort exists. But, of course, that may be true only until I reach the age of thirty, for then I may lose interest in life altogether." 

--The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoevsky

I hear ya, Fyodor. I turned 30 in March and most of my time is spent doing something like this:

Rather than this:

 or this:

or even this:

BUT, for the epic 30th, I decided I wanted to celebrate like a kid. So I convinced some family members to travel down here and go to Harry Potter World at Universal Studios with me.

We had perfect weather and short lines. We sang theme songs, drank gallons of butterbeer and got so so soaking wet. It was good to feel young again.

 Turns out 30 ain't so bad.