Rantings of a 30-year-old

Can you tell I am aging? Do you see the signs of wrinkles creeping into the creases of my eyes? Since both of these pictures are taken during celebrations involving consumption of alcoholic beverages, I have been telling myself for a year that it was the Bombay sapphire - the night in the year 2005 I just had more than the year 2004. I thought that was a legitimate excuse last year, but now, well now, I am not going to include the picture from the year 2006.

Wednesday was my 30th birthday. I am thirty (30). Unfortunately for women, this birthday wrecks havoc on us with regard to our self-image. Just a week ago I got a coupon from a near-by salon for a discount on Botox. Oh my God! Luckily, I have bought into the new Boots skin care line at Target (only the downtown location I discovered), but definitely not Botox or any injections of fat. (Thanks to the episode of Boston Legal where the dermatologist was sued for injecting his own ass fat into two seemingly innocent women - although they liked the results of having his ass . . . oh, I can't go that far here, catch the re-run).

Aside from the beauty issues involved in turning, well, the number I turned, there are life issues. I can't quite decide how I feel about - okay, 30. On other people, 30 never sounded like a big deal. I laughed at Peter during his panic at entering his 3rd decade over 3 years ago. I thought he was so silly. Now I know. Everyone really likes being in their 20s. 20-something is good. Fond memories exist of the fabulous, exhausting 21st birthday party. Graduating college. Really being on your own. Falling in love. Graduating law school. Passing the bar. Getting married. Owning your first home, new car, boat. Having a child. Seems like everything was packed right there in the second decade of life.

What else was left? Well, I had plans - plans of what I wanted to do and what I would accomplish before 30 hit. The laundry list: write and publish a book; live in a state other than Wisconsin or Minnesota; travel to Belize; wake up early enough to walk the dog AND enjoy coffee; stick to a regular work out routine; speak Spanish fluently; learn/practice Karate (I am not sure of what you "do" with marshal arts); and find a way to be active in my community again about something I truly care about (Just today I was told - A, you gotta have a passion - that is actually a whole other entry - how to deal with religious freaks that are trying to convert you/save your soul). A co-worker informed me that I should not be so worried about what I have not done; that at the age of 30 he was just happy to be alive. I understand this for him, and I mean no disrespect, but for me, I have always strived for more than just breathing.

In the few days since I have turned 30, I have been thinking about the decade to come and why hitting this marker has hit me harder than others. In the end I have decided to move on from that topic. There is no sense focusing on the fact that to date, I have never seen a Moose, have never slept in one of those little huts over the water under Mosquito netting, have never scaled mountains. If I wait a few more years, I might not want to! For instance, I am no longer so set on living somewhere other than Wisconsin or Minnesota (although both Peter and I agree London or almost anywhere in Canada would be cool). If I wait long enough, maybe someday I will give up on my plan to walk the dog in the mornings or maybe I will switch to tea (very doubtful, but who knows). Helpful in my journey to this revelation was the card from my friend S, which was in response to the "Knuckle Down Revisited" post, carrying the advice that changing your life starts with changing your underwear! Now that I can do! Believe it or not - this card does have deeper meaning to me - not to take things so seriously. Not to be so set on sticking to The Plan. So I have not jumped out of a moving airplane yet (or one that is not moving, for that matter). Who cares? Instead, I have a wonderful family, one that includes a beautiful son, who makes it so much more fulfilling to teach him the pieces of Spanish that I do know, rather than learning the rest by myself. The Plan can be modified.

Maybe age is just a number. Maybe I will never settle into that regular work-out routine and being a morning person. One thing is certain, I will come up with a New Plan, because one thing I have realized over these 30 years is that is just the type of person I am. And look closer at the person I am - maybe the "eye creases" aren't THAT bad.

Father Figure

Ahhhh . . . water, water, water! (or, as Little Pete says, wa-der, wa-der, wa-der!) Happy Father's Day, Peter!

Warning: Mild Violence. Brief Nudity.

As an attorney practicing products liability, I am all too familiar with warning signs - warning signs, warning signs, everywhere warning signs. Every time I read ridiculous verbiage plastered on a package, I dream up the Statement of Facts that set the lawsuit into play that resulted in the "Warning!" Currently the list includes a Double Burner, i.e, a portable stove with two burners. Stamped between the two burners is the following urgent message: WARNING: DO NOT USE AS A PORTABLE HEATER! A Humidifier contains the phrase, WARNING: THIS HUMIDIFIER PRODUCES STEAM. And a deep fryer that goes into specifics - CAUTION: Use Caution when deep frying flour tortillas. Flour tortillas contain air bubbles. During deep frying oil can become trapped in these bubbles. If not properly drained, bubbles can burst and cause burns. Therefore, after deep frying tortillas, carefully raise them out of the cooking oil, and allow oil to drain for 30 seconds. Warning signs. Very useful.

Recently, I was on a business trip where I had to drive for miles and miles by myself late at night (early in the morning) to what seemed like the very tip of Long Island. I was lost outside the airport and then again in Queens. Apparently, "Airport Exit" was not deemed a very useful posting in New York. After I made my way onto the road I was to travel until the highway ended, I started paying attention to the Signs. Warning Signs. As I drove, I contemplated how useful some of these signs would be while off-roading as well:

1. Do Not Cross Buffer: There are many different definitions of "buffer." The applicable ones are: "a cushion-like device that reduces shock due to contact; to protect from impact; 'cushion the blow' [syn: cushion, soften]." I use people as buffers to other people. You know what I am talking about. There are certain people you won't go to lunch with or have drinks with without a buffer. Buffers are good. Leave them in place. Do not cross. I like the reminder.

2. Sharp Turn: There are so many. I would appreciate the "heads up".

3. No Trucks or Buses in Right Lane: So not really a warning for those of us that do not drive trucks or buses, but I would take this lane every time. All I hear every time I am in the car with Little Pete now is "Whooo. . . Mama, Big Duck! Mama, Bus! Bus! M A M A!" This is repeated over and over to until we reach our final destination. By the way, "Duck" is "Truck."

4. Dead End: Anything that can help avoid this mistake would be good. For instance, when I am trying to explain to Little Pete why he cannot go outside at 9:00 p.m., if someone could hold up this sign, it might save me some time. I could move right on to "Because."

5. Minimum Speed 40 mph: This warning is not useful to me, but to others in my life. No slow pace here. Keep up. Little Pete seems to have no problem with this. On occasion, Peter does.

6. Abrupt Stops: See above. Again, a warning for others - stay back a safe distance.

7. Low Flying Aircraft: I just like it.

Before beginning the movie I am currently watching I was warned: Mild Violence. Brief Nudity. Again, good heads up. You think I am digressing, however, I hear this could be a useful road sign. A slightly altered version of this would have been good for Peter the other day when he drove up and looked over at the man in the car next to him. He was only wearing a bra. Peter laughed violently - but not until after the light turned green.

Messing With Texas

The Celebration: A Southern Wedding for the Two Blondes from the Midwest.*


The Pool: View of Dallas.


The Tour: The Sixth Floor Window.

*Picture of Pete and I, not the two blondes.