Dec. 16th, 2004

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Hm. So this is what thirty feels like. Actually, it feels remarkably like twenty-nine, only slightly wheezier from forgetting to take my bronchitis and asthma meds this morning. I'll have to be honest and attribute that to tackling too many projects at once this morning, though, rather than early-onset senility.

Apparently being thirty is much easier than turning thirty, at least as far as my one day of experience has shown me. Losing my single status, my last name, and my twentymumbleness within two months has led to an inordinate amount of introspection and soul-searching, most of which has led to the rather anticlimactic revelation that I am not my age, my name, or my marital status, and I'm more or less the same exact person I was before, with a spiffy new ring and slightly less right to shop in the Juniors department (which hasn't stopped me for the past decade, and likely won't now).

Even so, yesterday was slightly scary and intimidating, and much thanks to everyone who helped chase that away with well-wishes. Today has gone a long way towards dispelling any lingering cloud of doom, since I've spent the entire day prancing around the kitchen like a magnificent goof, making holiday cookies and listening to a bizarre mix of Warren Zevon, Broadway show tunes, Jethro Tull, the Charlie Daniels Band, and Three Wyrd Sisters. First batch of cookies is cooling, first batch of candy is setting, second batch of cookies are almost ready to be shaped, and I have sufficiently proven to myself that while I may be getting older, I'm nowhere near mature. I think I have flour in my eyebrows....

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