I'm nearing the quarter century mark, everybody. That's right. Today, I turn 24.
I like even numbers, so I'm happy to move into the next 365 days. 24 just sort of rolls off the tongue. Plus, I know it's still pretty young, but 24 just sounds older than 23. A lot older to me, actually.
Gone are the days when I used to weep over turning another year older. I cried when I turned five, because I liked being four so much. Ditto turning six, because apparently five ended up being okay. I had a problem with change (and possibly emotional stability) when I was young. But now I look forward to the next year, because I'm a beacon of emotional stability. If that makes any sense.
Anyway, nothing really officially exciting happens after you turn 21. The last major restriction on fun is lifted for your 21st birthday, after which you are free to go blow money and any sort of diet on copious amounts of alcohol if you survive that first night out. Incidently, I'm not sure I know anyone who was as thin on their 22nd birthday as they were on their 21st.
Skinny 21-year-old Carrie, perhaps you should have a cheeseburger. Or just another cocktail, because they mysteriously have about the same amount of calories.
Of course, the official excitement of my 21st birthday resulted in an officially catastrophic return to my apartment and a hangover so intense that I could only eat one measly shrimp the next night when Kyle took me out for a more, shall we say, classy celebration. That hangover also lasted an entire week. Perhaps less official birthdays are more my speed.
For instance, Kyle's family got me TWO cakes last night when we went up to visit (skinny Carrie is a thing of the past I suppose, because one must be polite and eat cakes purchased in one's honor). They were Dairy Queen and lemon poppyseed creations, and they were delicious. His grandpa hilariously advised me not to take a drug test after eating the lemon poppyseed one, so perhaps that first birthday celebration was a little on the wild side after all.
Tonight, we're journeying up to the Becker house for linguini with clam sauce, another Dairy Queen cake (help), and general festivities. Tomorrow night Kyle is taking me to La Tavola, the most adorable little Italian place in Mt. Washington that is supposed to be amazing. I can't wait!
Oh, and I love my husband every day, but most especially on days when these arrive:
In case you're interested, in an attempt to find anything interesting or meaningful about this new age I've entered, I ran a Google search for "being 24 years old." The first result was a Yahoo Answers page asking "what are some good things about being 24 years old?" -- apparently someone else doesn't have any idea either -- and one of the responses said "One more year until your car insurance rate is lower:) "