The Big Day is Here

I wasn't freaking out about turning 30. Seriously, I wasn't. I never had the whole life plan thing worked out, never had a picture of myself and what I'd be doing at each age. I knew I was going to college, and since then it's been a little fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants. Within reason and as much as my type-A self will allow. But still.

And then mid-July hit. I started to feel like it's all fine to be wherever you are in your late twenties, but 30 commences The Adult Years. You know, smart investing and glass-of-water-for-every-glass-of-wine thing. My late twenties were kinda like a tax bracket, I guess. I was at the top and felt pretty good, relative. Now I'm back on the bottom and better get my shit together.

I also felt like I should be planning something monumental to mark the occasion. When I turned 16 I took my driver's test, passed, dropped my Mom off at home and took my friends out to get donuts, then went to Chicago for a Lilith Fair concert (I know, I know). I was in New York City the night I turned 21, and my brother and I beat feet to the nearest liquor store the second the clock struck midnight. I grabbed some beer and dared the cashier to card me so I could whip out my license and the "Happy Birthdays!" could begin and I'd be legal and everyone would love it! The guy didn't even blink and couldn't have cared less about how old I was. Sigh.

But I could not think of one thing that I had to be doing for my 30th, which I'm pretty sure is a function of having my friends and family spread across the world. So, I'm just going to get up, go for a run, get a cup of my favorite coffee, head to my amazing job, and thank my lucky stars that I've gotten 30 phenomenal years so far.