Dear Friends:

I’m sitting here in my going-someplace-warmer outfit, wondering if I can get in a nap before our ride to the airport shows up in a little over an hour. Last night’s birthday celebration for Heather, the details of which shall remain known only to those individuals involved, have left me beyond the help of even my lukewarm cappuccino. Maybe I’ll be able to sleep on the plane.


So, this is the final message I’ll be writing from my twenties. I’m pretty excited about turning 30. The past couple years have been chaotic, productive, and exhilarating; by far the best time of my life. It’s funny that a good part of what I’m most grateful for are things I don’t have: kids and a job.

OK, I do have a job. I work for myself, and I’m a pretty fucking awesome boss, too.

I’m sending myself on vacation.

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