Well hello.

I am older now.  I turned on Easter Sunday and it was lovely.

I am not one of those girls who is afraid of aging.  I look forward to it.  I can barely wait until I'm in my sixties.  Life seems to happen with more ease then.  And maybe by that time I'll be a bit better at making decisions.

God sent me an earthquake on my birthday.  My very first one.  It was thrilling.  We were in the middle of Easter Tea and my cup started to rattle.  I thought I was dizzy at first, but it turns out the world was dizzy, not me. 

Hooray for new things. 

I made a list.  I don't like lists, but this one was fun to make. 
A memory for each month of 24. 

April.  My sister and I changed in the parking lot, ducking behind our car door when cars drove by.  I felt daring.  And womanly.

May.  I wore a whistle earning dress and cried unashamedly during Elphaba's song.

June.  Attacked by a grouse.  And biked my mountain.

July.  Toured North Idaho with my father via our favorite mode of transportation.

August.  Wore a suit everyday and lived off of peanut butter sandwiches and the city beach.

September.  Began to fall in love with my new class.  They are the cutest.

October.  Closed a chapter that seemed more important than it was.  And laughed at the end of it.

November.  Played fetch with iguanas. 

December.  Was a terrified Mary.  And had a meltdown measuring moment in a store with a friend.

January.  Best piece of pie found in Strawberry, AZ.  Best.

February.  Made a huge payment that left me almost debt free.

March.  First gray hair.  Fell in love with the book of Psalms all over again.

Yesterday I tried on a dress that made me feel like Raggedy Anne.  It was old and frilly and lacey and perfect.  I loved feeling like her so much that I wish I would have kept it. 

Today I had my picture taken with Cary Grant and Sidney Portier's blocks.  I believe that they were the classiest men who have ever lived.  Except for Jesus and my father.

I am 25 and for the first time in my life I am aware of what my age means.  It is not true that I am living on borrowed time.  But that thought keeps creeping into my head. 

I do not want to get married when my middle is soft and my hair is coarse.  I want to be my best.

Maybe I will start running again.  Maybe I will eat lettuce and no sweets.  Maybe I should move to a city that has single groups and night life. 

That all sounds awful.

I am 25 and I have no idea what I am doing.

I wonder if anyone does.