I’ve started, stopped, and re-started this first blog post way too many times. Some versions sound too serious, other attempts seem pretentious. But most of them seem pretty much pointless. So I think I’m going to just wing it and see what happens.
Today is my half birthday: I’m 29 and a half years old. Which means I’ve got 6 months of my twenties left. I still remember when I turned 15 and my mom casually mentioned that I was halfway to 30. That sounded so gut-wrenchingly old then. But now it seems pretty cool: like maybe I’ll be a legitimate adult sometime soon.
The people I will be spending the rest of my twenties, my thirties (and beyond) with are: my 2 year old son who calls himself Char Char, my 3-month old daughter who has a mohawk and a master’s degree in cuddling, and my husband who was once described as “a typical bald guy with a beard,” which is only interesting if you know that he is neither bald nor bearded.
As for me, I was once chased by a goose. It jumped out of a tree as I went under it, and the darn thing ran after me until it got bored. That happened back when I was 15 (and only halfway to 30, instead of almost there), but I still think about it occasionally when I pass under tall trees. I’m not really sure what that says about me as a person, but the fact that it a) happened, b) is vividly stored in my memory, and c) has made it into my first blog post has to mean something. Maybe I’ll figure it out as I get older.