This next year, starting Sunday, I will be 31. Thirty-one. Sounds boring, doesn't it? I feel asleep just writing that last sentence.
I was really fun in my twenties. (I wrote that line and posted that link purely so that my coworkers can be reminded that last year they got me donuts for my birthday...I was also given a video placed on YouTube of my husband dancing the hula as a frshman in college. (Please note that the thumbnail pic from the person who posted the video seems to be a pic of my husband in the shower.))
Back to my point. Twenties were fun. Thirty was awesome. So I have to find a way to convince myself 31 rocks. Consider the following:
- 31 Flavors of Ice Cream at Baskin Robbins. I'm going to eat copious, indictable amounts of ice cream this year.
- It's the day of Halloween, my 3rd favorite day of the year...apple cider, crunchy leaves underfoot, caramel apples...
- It's the number of people (times a million) who watched the Jackson memorial. Kismet.
- It's the channel I grew up watching the Simpsons on.
- It's the number of a really cool Proverb that tells me that, as a woman, I should wear purple linen, be in real estate, grow my own wine, and hold a distaff. (Where am I going to get a distaff from?)
In conclusion, 31 is the new 21. Watch me rock this.