...and on the occasion of the eve of my 25th birthday...

...I'd like to offer you an abhorrently cliche roller-coaster metaphor.

Today, Jared, delightful fiancee that he is, took me to Rye Playland, an old-fashioned-minus-the-fashioned amusement park in Westchester. He also convinced me (without much resistance) to ride the Dragon Coaster. We prepared in our usual ways: he eagerly anticipated a good ride while I fretted and planned, tried to anticipate each fall, and gauged the length with little hope (I never want it short, but I'm afraid of it being long and uncomfortable, like any totally rational creature). At the first drop, my usual stomach-saving technique of holding my breath and tensing every muscle I have didn't work. Nor at the second. Nor the third. It took 'til the last few bunny hops to realize that if I just relaxed and exhaled, I felt better.

25: This year, I'm gonna enjoy the ride.
Gnight!
20 minutes 'til I'm 25!!!

P.S.
Two birthdays ago I said "By my next birthday, I won't be doing this [working the same job] anymore."
Last birthday, I wasn't doing it anymore.
This birthday, I'm on my way to doing something I love.
Next birthday, I'll be an employed, married woman (ugh, at 26 I have to admit I'm a "woman" not a girl...).