Mack The Knife

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It’s been awhile. Work, life, more work all kept me away too long.

I googled peonies (because I have a lovely bunch on my counter right now) and found this picture of Martha Stewart and it felt right. So here she is.

Apparently, a pregnant great white shark is making its way to NYC. As soon as I read that headline I started humming that old ditty about Mack. What started out as a harmless little hum turned into a Wikipedia rampage. Did you know Mack the Knife, aka Die Moritat von Mackie Messer, is a song composed by Kurt Weill with lyrics by Bertolt Brecht for their music drama Die Dreigroschenoper? What?!?!

The older I get the more I realize I don’t know anything. This is true about pretty much EVERYTHING, except about myself. The one thing I can really check in with and get on the same page on is myself. I don’t always like myself a lot of the time, let alone love myself. But at the end of the day, I’m kinda all I’ve got. Even if knowing myself means knowing that everything I know right now I might not even begin to really know tomorrow. Sigh. Getting older just makes you see how much more there is to learn. It’s exhilarating and scary – probably why that fear of death starts to kick in.

One thing I doubt we’ll ever TRULY know is what foods will actually make you live longer. That being said, I’ll happily believe this study that found coffee is really good for you.

I stumbled across this article trying to answer my own questions about acupuncture. I love acupuncture and have had some amazingly good sessions lately.

Still trying to find a good wedding guest dress. Found this delightful little store. Mostly I just want to lounge like this at a wedding.

This man LOVES his chihuahua. I totally get it, dude.

Alright, time to put the internet to bed and get (much-needed) sleep.

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Thirtysomething

I am quickly approaching the big THREE-OH. As in, “OH – I’m already 30?”. Sigh. Where did the time go?

Here’s the thing – I HATE listening to people complain about getting old. We should be celebrating! We made it! We haven’t died yet! That’s pretty COOL!

Not to mention, your twenties may be immensely fun but are also immensely hard. It’s a time of reckless fun with the mistakes and suffering to match. I romanticize that time (especially after a glass or two of wine)  – but ultimately the 20’s are an exhausting decade.

So why the eff am I so effing scared?

Sigh. Change is scary. I may be psyching myself out, but I swear I am detecting some major physical changes as I get closer to hitting 30. My skin is all of a sudden very dry. I can’t eat whatever I want anymore. I actually have to work out to feel “normal” in my body now. Maybe all the chaos of my younger years was a furnace for all that junk I use to eat? I don’t know! It’s a big confusing change.

I want to fight it. But then… I start to think about what women who fight aging end up like. I totally agree that society places unreasonable demands on women to remain sexual creatures (if we aren’t fertile, then what’s the point, right?), but I don’t want to be pumping my face full of chemicals just to keep up with that game. It just isn’t worth it.

So, Thirty. Here I come. Waistline be damned – I’m coming for you with joy and love in my heard. Hey – I made it this far, right?