can't stop the clock

a truth with which both jack bauer and i are intimately acquainted.

24. significant, really, only in its closeness to 25. and what have i done with myself in those 18 years since learning to ride a bike? 13 years since losing my last baby tooth? 8 years from getting my first job? and nearly 4 years from changing my name?

well, not what i would have thought. for starters, i would have had more children by now. less job experience. fewer unfinished graduate degrees in areas that no longer interest me. a house somewhere in texas. and a husband who is satisfied working as a company man from 9-5.

but it is what it is, and i yam what i yam. i have given up trying to imagine my life on the cusp of 30; there is simply no way to predict.

for this year's festivities (to celebrate both how far and how not-really-that-far i have come), bryan took me to a mariner's game. unfortunately, i forgot my sunscreen, so the first hour and a half of the game were spent trying to hide my delicate, snow white skin from the devilish rays of the sun. but eventually, the sun was blocked by the stadium, i got a giant licorice rope, kicked off my shoes, and thoroughly enjoyed the rest of the evening (both watching the sport and spying on people, as i so like to do).

¡feliz cumpleaños!