I don’t read very many blogs anymore.  It’s nothing personal; partly the medium has changed and blogs have gotten more topical, partly my workplace firewall makes blog-reading pretty selective, and partly I’m just less involved in blogging than I used to be.  I can’t keep up!

A lot of the bloggers I do follow are younger than me, and their blogs cover a lot of the turning 30/babies-no babies/home buying/marriage/etc topics that I know I used to love immersing myself in.  I talked a lot about those things; I wrote a lot about those things.  I naively believed my perspective and investment in those things was somehow new, novel and interesting.  Ah, youth.  Ah, Internet.

When I was about to turn 30 I pulled out the ever-so-twee (and ultimately predictable) list of things I’d hoped to accomplish by that age.  Oy.  It was – shocking! – filled with all sorts of things that at age 21 I had decided were Very Important.  I’m happy to say I no longer know where that list is and barely remember what was on it.

I am still prone to benchmarking and listmaking but if I were to make a new list there would be no end date (40 is a mere five years off and what’s the fun of only having five years to accomplish things?) and it would be things I want to do, not things I think I should do.  I want to take a breadmaking class.  And I want to go to South America.  I want to grow my hair long and I want to hire a cleaning person.  I want to taste wine in South Africa and I want to take D. to Paris.  I want to treat myself to cheese and wine nights at home more often.  I want to take my nephew to Central Park.  I want to get a facial and visit the doctor more.

I don’t mean to condescend towards all the bloggers out there staring 30 in the face and making big plans about family, homes, jobs, that are making lists of their own.  But on the eve of the eve of my last night at 34, I have to say that I like my 35 year old self more than I liked my 30 year old self.  I think one of the best lessons I’m continually learning as I age is that of letting go.  I’ve let go of a lot in the past few years, and I’m glad.

Some friends came out and had drinks with D. and me (and the dog) on Saturday afternoon to informally celebrate my birthday; of the people who joined us, only one (Caroline!) was at my 30th birthday party.  The changing landscape of my social life has been a curious thing these past few years but it’s nice to have a reminder that nothing is static, and that there is no telling who is out there, waiting to enter your life, who you may have just met that will prove to be a significant player, who you may find yourself celebrating with in the future.  I want to always be open to new people.

I want to adopt another dog.  I want to host a fancy dinner party.  I want to live somewhere with outdoor space.  I want to write a book.  I want to buy caviar.  I want to splurge on really nice bedding.  I want to plan a surprise party for someone.  I want to take more pictures.  I want to say Yes more than I say No.  These are the things on my list.