Earlier this year I hit a milestone — I turned 30. They say with age comes wisdom and I’m really not that wise, but I’m also really not that old. I’m 30. Flirty. And thriving. Yes, I stole that one from Jennifer Gardner in ‘Thirteen Going on Thirty,’ but this line has resonated with me ever since I first saw the film. I am reminded of a young girl who thought life would be awesome if only she were 30. For the past few years I didn’t share the same view on becoming the age that ends your 20s and makes you half way to sixty. I fought tooth and nail to not feel old. When you turn 20, it’s cool — you are no longer a teenager and your twenties are bound to be the best years of your life. Then, a year later you turn 21 and you can legally buy a round at the bar for your friends and later bet it all on red around the roulette wheel. After 21, what’s there to look forward to? Nothing. Or so I thought. My 20s were filled with roller coaster rides of life for sure — what pearls of wisdom would my 30 year old self tell my 21 self if we met via time traveling?

The lessons learned in the past eight years have made me wiser and well-rounded — I’d maybe trade a little of the tears and heartache for more smiles and happiness, but it all has made me who I am today, and I am proud of that. I guess I’m like a good whiskey: I’m getting better with age. Salud!


Soaking up sun and life in Northern California this past summer


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