So my birthday is coming up. My very last birthday with a twenty in it unless I live to 120 like Eddie Izzard predicted. That’s right, I’ll be 29 on the 28th of this month and I’ll start living out the last of what is generally considered to be “youth” in our culture. But hell, as long as I don’t feel like an old fart I guess I’m okay with it.

You hear it all the time, “you’re only as old as you feel,” and I don’t feel old. I don’t feel like I’m almost 30. I plan to continue to learn and grow and better myself and my relationships. For some naïve reason when I was younger and thought 30 was an eternity away, I never considered that as a possibility. I could hardly imagine being 30, let alone what I would be doing once I got there unless it was running my own Dude Ranch, being the lead singer of a heavy metal band, or having finally mastered martial arts, being a professional masked crime fighter like Batman or Zoro. I liked to keep my options open.

I didn’t end up where I thought I would, but I’m happy to be where I’m at. I don’t own herds of beautiful stallions, lead a life of fame and fortune with screaming fans that fund my night life of vigilante work. But I get by with lots of laughs and good friends.

Here’s to another year, comin’ right up!