Thirtysomething

I turn 31 today. Funny enough, this strikes me as even more significant than turning 30. By turning 30, I reached my thirties. But now I’m actually in my thirties. I’m not just 30, I’m thirty-something. Somehow it’s a big difference. Maybe it’s because 30 just seems like the last year of being in your twenties. I could believe that.

For being my birthday post, I don’t have much to say. I have a crap load of essays to be grading, so I can’t have as much fun today as I’d like. Not that I even know what I’d do for fun if I could do whatever I wanted. Not grade essays, I guess. But I do look forward to this evening. I’m going to try to have some downtime with the family. Melanie’s being incredibly sweet and making me a wonderful dinner of pot roast, “funeral potatoes,” and more. And she’s made a cake that is incredibly cute and fun. I’ll keep the details a surprise until I actually have pictures to post (which I promise to do soon). It’s great, though. She prepped it last night, and every time I walk by it, I can’t help but smile and giggle with glee. Oooooooo, and did I mention it’s a hummingbird cake? No, it doesn’t look like a hummingbird, it’s a hummingbird cake, a delicacy that Melanie and I recently discovered and that made me take seriously the usually sarcastic quip, “If you love it so much, why don’t you marry it?” If polygamy were legal, I would consider it.

I guess that’s about all I have to say. I’m getting boring in my old age.