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 December 16, 2007
DAY 321  |  December 16, 2007
Christmas came early this year. Bryant had a special surprise waiting for me at his apartment: A Christmas tree with a penguin on top (because I want to go to Antarctica); presents under the tree (that included chocolate, of course!); Bing Crosby Christmas carols playing; a wine bar set up with lights and fir tree branches; and an image of a glowing fire burning on his flat-screen television. All I had to do was kick back, relax and keep him company as he basted a chicken (something I’ve never done in all of my 29 years), whipped up maple-syrup laced mashed sweet potatoes and steamed sugar-snap peas.

You know, I always think I’m going to be really, overwhelmingly happy when I score the next big assignment, or take the next big trip, or hit the jackpot in the lottery. But I’m learning that true happiness happens in the little moments—tiny pockets of time that come just as easily as they go. In my younger days I was always chasing contentment, analyzing it, digging so deeply for it and coming up empty handed. Well, this is me now—in this moment when I wasn’t looking for it—completely happy.

Disclaimer: I promised Bryant that I would tell y’all that I made him wear this Santa hat. So, I’m telling you: I made him wear this Santa hat. Ha!

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