Disaster struck...

well, it struck the Little People village, at any rate. My kids set up an elaborate town, had the characters interact, then had the town get destroyed by a tornado. What? There was recently a twister episode of some kids show or another (they all run together, don't they?), so I'm assuming that's where they got it from. But still, a little weird.

And, um, what else is going on? Um, nothing special. I guess maybe it's getting kind of close to my birthday. Like Sunday. But no big. Right? ... Right? Really, it's not a big deal at all. Seriously. I'm totally okay with turning thirty. I actually feel like it gives me a bit of legitmacy as a wife and mother for some reason. You know, like last year, I felt very young most of the time standing with the other preschool moms, partly due to age and partly just because that's how I am. So this year I'll be 30.

But I do have to confess that there's a pretty big part of me that's disappointed in where I am now. Not that I'd really change anything, because ultimately I'm happy, even if I'm not happy every single minute (who wants that anyhow?). But I thought I'd have a master's degree, have written several novels (I haven't even written several chapters of a novel), be financially in control (turns out I'm still an ostrich about money - I tend to stick my head in the sand when it starts to freak me out. And that ain't good. I'm trying to get it all figured out again). I guess I just see thirty year olds as being much more with it than I am. But that's ever my life. There's always someone who's more together than me. Mainly I'm okay with that. I'm capable of envying them and accepting me for who I am at the same time. But sometimes a major thing comes along and makes me question that easy acceptance I've come to. These things I admire about other people, could I maybe do them too?

A year ago, I set a list of 30 goals. And I have done maybe four of the thirty. I'm disappointed in myself. And yet proud of the stuff I have done in the past year. I've learned so much about photography - still have a ways to go, but this time last year, I just wanted to take cute baby pictures and hearing "f-stop" made my brain shut down. Now I can actually explain what that means to another person. I'm trying again (again!) to teach myself to knit. Three years ago (during Hurricane Isabel), I taught myself to crochet using a website's instructions. Now I'm an old pro. Knitting, I've tried several times with no success whatsoever. Those little sticks make me crazy. So I decided to give it another shot, maybe a different instruction book will explain it in a way that clicks for me. So far, so good. I've cast on 20 stitches. I'm at a roadblock with the next step, but I've never made it this far before.

I haven't lost the weight I wanted to and I like to blame that on my gallbladder issues as much as possible. It's easier than remembering the birthday cake I ate last Tuesday, Friday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Or the other snacks I like. I'm not working out the way I used to. I know I just need to start small again and I'll make it back to what I used to be able to do, but right now that's frustrating.

I tend to place significance on things that aren't and end up disappointed. I did every year on the first day of school. It would be a fresh start. I could remake myself, be a better student, be stylish. Have clean notebooks, at least. I was inevitably disappointed. I'm hoping that I'll outgrow that tendency one of these days. Hasn't happened yet, but one day...

I approach my thirties with hope, the way I like to approach every day. Each day is full of potential, waiting for me to figure out how to use it. Now if I can just get my lazy ass up and enjoy the rest of this one. The second to last day of my twenties.

Two more days. Less than forty-eight hours. Farewell, my twenties.