Age Ain't Nuthin' but a Number

...and my favorite number is 17. (Technically it should be 24, since the code that B.J., Lisa and I invented in the 9th grade would make Memphis' number 24. But old habits die hard.) I mention the numbers and the age becasue my 1/2 birthday was the 14th. I got into the habit of celebrating my 1/2 birthday sometime around when we invented the code. What's the use of having a summer birthday when none of your "friends" will come to your party becasue they're all preparing their livestock for the county fair? A birthday during the school year is much cooler. You get to have a party in class and all your "friends" think you're cool for bringing snacks. (Even if it is peanut butter bars every year.) Then, when I started my whole anti-Valentine's day kick, it became even more usefule to have an alternative party on that day. No pressure, no love, no annoying toddlers w/ bows and arrows. I'd almost forgotten about my own mortality, when Mamma called to wish me a happy 1/2 birthday. OMG! I'm 28 and a 1/2! That's downhill to 29 and lurking around the corner (insert dramatic horror movie music here) THIRTY! eeeeeeeeeeekkkkkkkkkkk! What happened to all those years when I was 17? I don't feel that much grown up. Maybe getting married will help, but I doubt it. Let me tell you this: I was NOT getting married when I was 29. I would have refused. It would make me feel like and old head who barely beat the "I was married in my 20s" deadline, (a totally arbitrary deadline I made up, but admit it...there's something about 30-when you're on THIS side of it. Quit smirking like that, Carrie Bradshaw. I know you hate all us 20-somethings.) and I wasnt' having any of it. I would have proudly waited until I was 30 to become a wife. It sounds very dignified to me. I'm not waiting though. We've waited long enough and life is too short. I'm just glad I'm still twenty-eight.