And Now We Are Twenty-Eight

My birthday was the other... week and I am now twenty-eight years old.

I don't really know what else to say about that.

I do think this year is going to be a good year.  I'm going to get married when I'm 28.  More than likely we're going to get a puppy when I'm 28.  No doubt at least one other good thing will happen in the next 355 days or so.

All the same, 28.  That's a big number.  For me.

So anyway, here are some pictures of frost.  Which seems to be the sum total of winter we're going to get around here.

This happened a couple of weeks ago now.  Though something sort of similar did happen Saturday morning.  But I didn't venture outside for that one.

But we have this giant pine tree out in our front yard that took the frost really well.  And looked very cool.  So I got a little fascinated.

We have a smaller pine tree closer to our door that had really, really cool frosted pine cones as well.  But it was also pretty windy and, yeah, they just would not sit still long enough to focus on them.  It was very irritating.

Also there was actual snow involved this time.  Which promptly melted.  But it looked pretty for the roughly 12 hours it hung around.  and I got to stomp around in it for awhile.  And pretend I'm something more like just eight.  Without the twenty in front of it.

A weekend of two ago there were puddles in the Target parking lot.  Steve more or less dared me to splash in them on the way in and I didn't.  On the way back to the car though, I was all over that.  To the point where he ran away from me so I wouldn't splash on him.  And he started telling me I was getting my purse dirty, etc.  I didn't care, I was having fun.  And acting like a kid.  Which everyone should do now and then.

GIGANTIC Palm Leaves

It doesn't totally look like it here but those palm leaves/branches/whatever the appropriate term for a palm leaf is are HUGE.  

And I don't mean huge like "as big as your head."

I mean HUGE like "as tall as your house."

These are seriously intense palms here, people.  

I'm pretty sure one of them could crush a fully grown person.  Certainly an only 3 quarters grown person like me.  (See what I did there?  Made fun of my own stature via an allusion to a post I wrote yesterday.  Nice.)  (Plus I just used the word allusion - though admittedly, at first I typed illusion; but I corrected myself - which always makes me happy.)  (Why does using the word allusion make me happy?  It's a pretty cool word and I don't think people use it enough.  I like to give some attention to frequently ignored words every now and then.)  (It's like charity - only with words instead of, you know, things that may actually need some charity.)

(Cavort is another word that falls into that category for me.)

So... new rule.  (With apologies to Bill Maher for using "his" phrase - I follow him on Twitter so I think it's okay.)  I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be allowed to blog this late at night anymore.  Apparently 10:45 pm is now too late for me to be rational/logical/cogent.  And that obviously leads to rambling: Never good.  This is one of the major drag parts of being an "adult" (or "functioning member of society" or whatever).  

For some reason it's like my body suddenly decided that at the age of 26 it was just plain done with my shenanigans.  (I am shocked I spelled that correctly on the first try.)  It's like all of the sudden it insists on sleep; like at least 5 hours every night.  And suddenly it's all "feed me on a regular basis" and "lay off the sixth cup of coffee will you?" and "hey maybe today instead of chugging Coke and eating potato chips all day you, I donno, move?" and "WTF? Bitch, you crazy?" (because sometimes my body has a big attitude with me) and whatnot.  It's like it expects me to feed it and hydrate it and, I don't know, take care of it or something?  To which my response it "Um, no."  Here's the scoop, body.  You and me?  We have a deal.  You've been going along with it for well over two decades now and that right there is implied consent.  I get to be a totally selfish bitch and not care about or for you in the slightest and you, frankly, deal with it and keep me alive anyway.  All that jibber jabber you've been hearing about vitamins being good for you and rest making you feel better and how shoulders aren't supposed to sound like bone saws when you rotate them?  Lies.  Innuendo.  Hurtful, hurtful gossip.  You should ignore it; that would be best for everyone involved.

Basically what I'm saying is I'd like you to continue/go back to acting/feeling as though I'm still seventeen please.  Remember those days?  They were nice.  Staying up until 3 in the morning to finish that AP English essay about voice or something then waking up again at 7 to get to Junior/Senior Band on time.  Surviving on a diet of Coke, bagels, and whatever Mom made for dinner. (Oh! and "Grandma's Brand" soft-baked cookies!)  Or in college?  Staying up until 4 in the morning talking to boys online and watching Futurama on Comedy Central.  Rolling out of bed for 9 am class.  Having more than enough meal plan money to eat just fine but usually being too lazy to make ourselves much more than cereal.  Ahhh.

Look I know we have to get up way earlier than we've ever really needed to before.  I agree - 5:40 am is much, much, much too early to be awake.  But seriously - could you maybe let me stay up past 9:30 pm just one or two nights a week without turning me into a jabbering idiot?  I mean seriously, body, what more do you want?  I feed you.  I clothe you (I even make you look somewhat cute!).  I even exercise you!  I jogged you for a quarter mile today and walked you for 3 miles!  (I realize you're mad at me for that at the moment but I am assured eventually you'll think it's a good thing)

In short - you suck, body.  Stop being such a judgey d-bag.  

Kisses!

Cait