Another Year Wiser

So a terrible, awful, unpreventable thing happened this week, that I truly never saw coming. I turned 30.

I suppose I always thought this could happen. I know a lot of people, good people, over thirty. Some of my best friends are over thirty. Even my father seems to be somewhat north of his thirties, something I've long suspected. But for the most part, it seemed like something other people did. It's not my type thing.

Now it's happened. I'm learning to deal with this as best I can, but it's hard. I'm facing a life of changes. I'll become increasingly befuddled by popular music. I'll likely never again be in a situation where it's socially appropriate to wear a hoody.* My metabolism, already seething with unease, will become openly rebellious.

Sigh.

Still, if you're going to turn thirty, you might as well do it in style.** Which is why I'm terribly grateful to my fiancee, Amanda.

Amanda didn't just plan my birthday party. She planned a birthday weekend of epic enjoyment. She took me to Seattle, baked me (stuffed!) cupcakes, planned a dinner at my favourite Italian restaurant, had wine, had gifts, took me to a piano bar, and is currently making an ice cream cake in the kitchen for the family dinner tonight. About the only good thing she didn't do this weekend was help Liverpool beat Chelsea, and even then I'm almost certain that the winger who assisted for Torres' second goal looked suspiciously cute and Southern.

So if you weren't there, we missed you! But thanks. Thanks to Maren, for a soccer ball I prize more than my eventual firstborn son, to Diane, for the amazing bottle of wine, for Ben and Heather, for always putting up with me in good humor and taking the best pictures I've seen, and to Steve and Abby, for the beer, the singing, the Petron, the laughter, and for the best after-party I've had in thirty long years.

Oh! And thanks to everyone for making me take my clothes off on stage last night. But that's another story. S

Amanda + Scott

*Unless, of course, I become a boxer. Mayweather rocks himself a hoody.
**Style example: This thirty year old still slams out a 6:30 mile. As a warmup. Recognize.