Tempted to not be proud.

What 28 looks like in the morning.


When birthdays come around lately, I feel a little lame.

Last year what really hit me hard was that President Obama's speech writer is the same age as me-- i.e. he won the presidency. This year... it's that I let another summer come and go and never put insulation in that crawl space beneath my bedroom and I was freezing when I woke up. Drat.
I am listening to Cory Chisel and the Wandering Sons. Some how, I feel like I am cheating on Dan when I listen to them. Cory does, arguably, have a phenomenal voice though. Even if he as lost himself in a pile of hooplah that will mean nothing at the end of the day. He kind of has the persona of M.Jackson now. mousy.. soft spoken and synthetica. Sad.

But on the same token, I do not know my identity.

I was walking into Farm and Fleet on W. State the other day. black skinny jeans, work boots, an American Apparel zip up hoody covered in hydraulic oil, carrying a Jimmy-Choo purse in my right hand and a blown out tire under my left arm. I thought at that moment-- who am I? How am I ever going to reconcile these two people?


I guess like Cory- musically talented pastor's son-- and alcohol obsessed musician aren't really going to reconcile themselves-- just like my work boots and Jimmy-Choo purse. Have you ever heard someone brag about how much they drank/ can drink... as though it is a legitimate skill-- always makes me feel pious and judgmental.. because in those moments, I am.

Like a song I heard on country radio yesterday while pulling the grain cart-- the tag line-- "I'm pretty good at drinkin beer." Needless to say, I like the song.

.

I am built for having a ball.