age smage

For the past few years I have a terrible habit of calling myself an old lady even though I’m only 31. (Considering I feel like I am about 8 this confuses me too.) I’ve often called my younger friends “kids” when talking about them and I’ve made comments about “people your age” as opposed to “people our age.” I’ve had several of them point this out to me and tell me it’s a bit offensive. They are right. I get annoyed when someone calls me a kid or tells me to grow up and be an adult.

What does being a adult mean anyway?

My opinion is whether we’re talking about dating, being a good friend, co-worker, mom, mentor or other, it ultimately doesn’t mean poo how old you are. You’re adult if you’re responsible, independent and take care of yourself, if you can old your own in any crowd, and if you’re respectful, reliable and aware.

Of all people, I am sure I’d seem like someone that would never take age into consideration for any reason. Well, I’m guilty as charged for being an age judger at times. I don’t know what I’ve been thinking. Recently I’ve met some people that have made me aware of how I was judging. They’ve helped me change my thoughts on this subject. Saying this. I will extend an apology to anyone I have ever offended in conversation. I have to say I love it when I am proven wrong. The result is always positive growth even if I’m stubborn about it. It’s nice to be blindsided with lessons from people you’d never imagine them coming from too.

Thanks Ben- I mean T.

the love of friend family

Every day I feel fortunate to have such amazing friends. I moved out of my parents house when I was 17. When I was 19 I packed my car with everything I owned, left VT and stopped off a random exit on I95. I ended up in Richmond, VA. With no research and not knowing a soul, I simply stopped in Richmond because it was the capital. Why not right? It would take years to share stories here about who I met from that day on. I can sum it up by saying that the people I “happened” to meet, live , and spend time with, have been my family ever since my car took that exit. I don’t believe in luck as most people use the term, but I do believe that everything happens for a reason. I know I was meant to stop at the exit I did, meet the people I have, and find family in them. I’m not sure what else I’d call the people who wholeheartedly and unselfishly took me in, protected me, and loved me from the instant they met me.

My extraordinary “friend” family has been incredibly supportive all these years. They’ve schlepped my stuff when I’ve moved, called to check on me when I’ve needed it, fed me, housed me, and dried tears when I have cried. We’ve shared a thousand laughs together, gone to hundreds of events, taken trips to the beach and danced drunk on tables. We have experienced life and death together, engagements, marriages, breakups and all in between. I have become Auntie Di to their kids. The time and experiences are irreplaceable. No matter where I go, where they go, or what time passes, these people remain my #1 fans and I am theirs. I often feel like I need to pinch myself as if all the love that’s given to me is some kind of dream.

One of these family members took me to lunch before this trip started and shoved this bill at me to add to my leftover half-sandwich:

This is after of course, great conversation, words of encouragement, wisdom and a lot of laughter.

I left this person that day shaking my head to myself thinking for the millionth time how I constantly have the fortune of stealing time with such good people. I can’t ever seem to come up with an answer. All I can do is thank these people, tell them I love them and hope that is enough.

Thank you S. Thank you to all in my friend family. You are the reason why I push myself to love more, be better, and pay it forward every day.