Making up for lost blogging time. Well, sort of.

I think my mind is aging faster than my body. Actually, I'm sure it is.

I look really young; I always have. I'm almost 30 but people think I'm 22! Case in point: last Friday night Jenn and I went to the Front Porch, the bar where her husband works. The crowd there is....ummmm, primarily women who are quite young? Tight trendy jeans, silky tank tops, blonde streaks in the hair. (OK, not a good description--given that I was wearing just that!) But hopefully those of you who are my age know what I'm getting at.....cute, hip little girls with plump upturned bottoms and flat stomachs who have nary a blemish, an ounce of back fat, and look hopelessly wholesome and impeccable.

One of those types of girls sat down next to me and struck up a conversation. The next thing I know she is suggesting that we exchange numbers to hang out since she just moved to town and needs some girlfriends. I wanted to laugh, hysterically. Me? What, and go shopping at Abercrombie and Fitch and sip frozen Starbucks double soy-vanilla-lattes?

Good lord! I don't think so.

As sweet as she was (I did the polite, drunk thing and squealed "definitely!"), I am old enough to be her, well, aunt? Older sister? I was half amused, half flattered. Lately I have been feeling so matronly. It kinda felt good to hear that I looked like someone who could be in her Lindsay Lohan-loving social scene.

Looking young is a drawback in the professional world for sure, but as everyone says...I'll be thankful later. Well, I'm already starting to feel thankful.

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Speaking of youth, I have been physically feeling like a spring chicken lately! I finally got back into running, I've been taking a great yoga class every week, I'm eating lots of veggies, staying active and positive. I have tons of energy. I know that a certain little pink pill I pop every morning is helping, but I'm sure as hell going to take some credit for it!

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Kevin comes back from Kentucky today! We have all missed his sparkling eyes and perfect white teeth! Unfortunately, nephew James did not yet make it into the world while Kevin was there. Timing and birth can be a tricky thing.

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Hendrix had to go to the vet last night. Gross out alert: he pooped out a combination of snot and blood. On the floor. Luckily he's not dying (as I am apt to fear, as much as I love that puss!), he just has a little case of colonitis. Now he must take shots of kitty pepto, which I think he secretly likes.

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I told Megan I would pay homage on the blog to our delicious Sunday night dinner, so here's the official props to the meal, which consisted of: grilled salmon burgers from Whole Foods; fresh mozzarella, basil, and tomato salad and fresh italian bread (again, from Whole Foods); grilled sweet corn; grilled zuchini (from my garden); salad (from my garden); and a great Pinot Noir, consumed in its entirety.

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Now, I hope you'll all forgive me for my shoddy postings lately. It seems lately I only have time to post at lunch, if I even bring my lunch and sit in my office. I'll try to be more proactive, y'all. Like the shit Jessica Simpson puts on her zits.

Peace out. (I hate when people say that. I also hate when people sign off "Cheers." Ummm, unless you're really cheersing me on your end with a cocktail, then no, sorry. I'm laughing at you.)