Three hundred sixty-five days of blog posts. It took me a little more than a year, but I was relatively close, and I’m so glad I did it. Thirty days was not enough, and three hundred sixty-five days was not enough, but I’m so happy I started.
Writing has been a great outlet for me in so many ways, and not just because it gave me a reason to take five or ten or forty minutes to sit with my own thoughts and my keyboard, or to devote a few extra minutes to reading a case or a newspaper article. I love my life. I love my children. I love my husband. It’s also nice to have something, just one small thing, that is really just for me.
I realize it would probably be healthier to have a glass of wine in the bathtub every night, or get a pedicure once in a while (seriously, I live in Florida), and maybe one day, I will get there. For right now though, I would rather feel like I’m doing something productive, even if it’s not.
I suppose now that I’ve spent 365 days thinking about what it means to be thirty (did I even spend a full week writing about that?), it makes sense to start thinking about what it means to be thirty-one. Friends have told me forty didn’t bother them, but forty-one was though. Forty was kind of a fun, big deal thing, and forty-one was sort of like the start of true middle-age. Obviously thirty-one is not quite the same, and many of these friends would not be thrilled by the comparison, but I wonder whether it will feel that way.
I don’t really have feelings about the numbers. I guess I think about thirty-one as a sort of filler year. If all goes according to plan, nothing major is going to happen. We’ll do some minor work on the house, paint a few walls, replace a few bookshelves, maybe start planning to add a bathroom. The children will all attend the same school they attended last month. HW will continue to work his ass off and love every second. I’ll take a bar exam, maybe pass, maybe take it again. It’s one of those years where, I hope, we can work on establishing good spending and saving habits, family rituals that will endure, and solid friendships. That’s not to say it won’t be an important year, in fact I think if we’re lucky, life will be mostly filled with years like that. It’s the kind of year that will go by too fast, just like this one, and the one before it.
I should probably go over that list I made again, the thirty things I was supposed to do. Luckily I have a few more years of being thirty(ish) to check things off.