Dirty 30s

(To the left: the Italian guy with the crazy 70s stash and the pretty lady are my parents. The big headed creature is me. Only nine months old and already looking skeptical.)

Today is my 30th birthday. It's weird to write that, but it's true. Starting at about age 27 I was freaking out about getting older, but now that my 20s are over there's nothing to do but accept it. I feel grateful that I have made it this far and have so much love in my life and great memories to show for it all. My feminist vow for my 30s is to try to not freak out about gray hair and wrinkles as much as possible.