I turn 30 tomorrow. It feels funny to say this. For the past month or so, I've been trying to shrug it off whenever someone mentions what a milestone birthday it's going to be. "Oh, um, it's just a number..." I say. "I'm sure it's not going to feel much different than 29." And it's partly true. I'm pretty certain I'm not going to wake up tomorrow with a head of gray hair, 25 extra pounds, and a sudden urge to shake my fist at all the young'uns playing music loudly in my neighborhood.
But I'm actually kind of excited to be exiting my 20s. Sure, there's always that feeling of "well, there goes another year...", compounded with "well, there goes another decade" for this particular birthday. But the later part of my 20s were pretty challenging, particularly the last year, and I'm happy to have moved beyond that.
I have quite a bit to be excited for. My book comes out this December. I have a new blog I'm eager to work more on. I'm collaborating with good friends on an exciting food-related venture. I have a brand new passport with blank pages just waiting to be stamped, as well as two old passports with reminders of all the places I've been.
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