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Happy Birthday to Me
What did I do with my 28th year?
I celebrated my 28th birthday last Wednesday, which naturally leads to a little neurotic retrospective of the last 365 days. Now that I find myself at an age where I can no longer rely on things like “get a degree/job/apartment” for a sense of accomplishment, I have to, God forbid, come up with my own ways to be productive. What did my 27-year-old self do to contribute to Hannah’s progress?
Got a blog. In case you hadn’t noticed.
Proceeded to make my blog bio outdated. That is, I actually have found local romance with a perspicacious young ‘un—and not at some swanky Sarasota arts event, either, but in the stinky locker rooms of Ellenton Ice, a stinky apartment in Pinellas Park, and the Cheetah Club (which doesn’t have a particular odor, that I’ve noticed). Because, of course, why would you look for men at the opera when there are strip joints around?
Learned how to make balloon animals. Well, balloon doggies, anyway, and a collection of animals from the Marc Chagall Zoo of Upside-Down Goat-Type Things.
BALLOONEY TUNES: After hours of practice, I am overjoyed to have created my first successful balloon animal while wearing my Walgreen's shirt. (Ahem. That just looks like the Sarasota Magazine editorial office. Pure coincidence.)
Drank more than halfway around the world. The count now stands at 57 out of 80 Shakespeare’s beers. I’m longing to reach the finish and get my pic up on the wall so I can drink what I frigging want already and stop choking down 30-proof Austrian-brewed syrup. (And yes, I know I could drink what I want right now, but the competitive, OCD child in me insists on finishing this project.)
Got into the habit of morning runs. It’s damn hot outside, folks.
Kept the habit of weekly ice hockey. Seriously. Outside? Very, very warm.
Attended four weddings. I know it depends a lot on your friends, but does the frequency of wedding invites peak in your late 20s or is it something that’s going to continue at a high volume for years and years?
Took advantage of Sarasota’s culinary standouts. Venturing forth into the world of better-than-ramen grown-up food, I made first (and subsequent) visits to top-notch downtown restaurants like Selva Grill, Horse Feathers, Ca d’Zan Lounge.
Made up for expensive dinners by shopping at Walgreen’s. Where else can you get a $10 t-shirt, a crate full of Pringles and a finishing sander for $2.49?
So where does that leave me at 28? Less-than-single and gainfully employed for the longest stretch in my life (two years, five months, 14 days, and, uh, five hours—and counting), and at a job that, bless it, actually makes my English degree look like career training; paying rent, cable, gas, groceries, student loans and a credit card balance that hasn’t seemed to budge in the last 10 years, but still enjoying the means and inclination to keep in shape, pursue some strange hobbies and just get out and about now and then (provided I keep buying my wardrobe at Walgreen’s, that is).
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