Watch Me Turn 30, by Holly C.
I'm a 29-year-old New Yorker who inherited this site from my pal, Holly P., to document the final year of my twenties. Right up until I turn the big 3-0 next January, I'll use this blog to indulge my inner-narcissist by voicing the good (I can date men anywhere from ages 21 to 50 without it being scandalous) the bad (I keep getting ma'amed) and the ugly (is it possible to get cellulite on your stomach?!). Here's to waving goodbye to my youth, accepting adulthood and remembering that every ending is really just a new beginning.
the photo for July 15, 2007
DAY 167  |  July 15, 2007
My dad rented a camp near Lake Ontario where he docks his boat, so my sisters and I drove up. We joke that every getaway is like the Griswold’s family vacation: There are barking dogs, screaming kids, burning burgers, practical jokes…We’ve grown up with the chaos, and it’s kind of grown on us.

This little man is my half-brother, Dan. His hazel-green eyes already have the mischievous glint of the Irish. Every time I see him I just want to squeeze him, and he doesn’t seem to mind.

My Dad also has two pit bulls and a crazy bird that bites. The dog in front is named Honey. That’s right: He named a male, unneutered pit bull Honey . And when Honey tries to hump other dogs, he always pretends the dog isn’t his or makes us girls go retrieve him. It was embarrassing when I was in high school, and it’s still embarrassing today.

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