Another Year Older… Not Bad

I turn 31 tomorrow. Now, before you run for the hills, let me assure you this is not one of those “I feel old” posts. Nope. I like turning 31. No problems with it or the aging process. Balding at the tender age of 17 will have that effect.

Okay, so I wasn’t happy about going on cholestorol medication this year, but I can deal. I’m a big boy, now. Fuck, I’m 31!

The last year has been a good one. I built on the career, and actually made it to the point where I can say cool shit like “Important announcement coming soon!”

I became a home owner.

I dropped twenty pounds. I put a lot of it back on. I started exercising. I kinda stopped exercising.

I wrote seven drafts of three different novels. I wrote four drafts of the same novella. I sold five short stories. I was invited to two anthologies. Invited! Me!

I had a beautiful baby girl.

I made that last one up. Never happened.

I reconnected with all of my brothers after several years.

I killed a bear with my hands.

Made that one up, too.

I had a lot of sex. Sometimes with a partner!

I ate both scallops and mussels for the first time, and I loved the hell out of both of them.

I broke a lawn mower (actually, we don’t know who broke the lawn mower, but we assume it was me).

I did not, at any time, wash my car. I did, however, get a tape stuck in the tape player. All class, baby!

I didn’t kiss Shawna nearly enough for my own liking.

I’ll fix that, though!

So here’s to 31. Raise a glass and give us a toast. It’s gonna be a fun ride!

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