clinging on to my 3

I arrived in Chicago five days after my 30th birthday. I sit tonight, fewer than 27 hours until my 40th birthday, and laughingly (and affectionately) cling to that digit, that 3, I earned almost ten years ago.

[insert sigh melodramatic sigh here]

Tomorrow I'll go swim, gym, have coffee at Safari, lunch with my parents, shop a bit in downtown Vancouver, try to make it Koda Klothing, then cap my thirties with a date night with Conrad, the man I love deeply and the man who puts up with so much about me. Saint Conrad? Too much? Sometimes it doesn't seem it.

In any case, the last day of my thirties will not be an explosion, nor will it be a whimper. I'll enjoy it all I feel like I want to, and Tuesday I'll wake up a changed man. 40. Hmmm...

A look at Peter through the thirties:

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