The Twenty-Third

As some of you may know, the twenty-third of each month holds a certain significance for me. I was born on the twenty-third, and like a true nerd (and eight year old at heart), I like to calculate what my age is as each twenty-third of the month goes by. Yes, this summer I actually referred to myself as twenty-seven and a half. (Mmhmm, I wish that I was joking too).

When I turned twenty-seven, I had some reservations about it, but what could I do? Stop time? I wish. Instead, I focused on what someone wise once said to me, and that was this: Twenty-seven is a sexy age. And, I had to agree. But, what about twenty-eight? What does twenty-eight bring to the table? Other than the reminder that my 20's are slowly nearing it's end...

With December 23rd's passing, the timer had been set. This is the last month that I will spend at this age. Home over the weekend, having a nice Jewish Christmas, I overheard my dad on the phone telling someone how old his kids were, I heard him say thirty-one, (Jeremy), twenty-eight, and twenty-three. (Heather). PS-- Dad, I'm not twenty-eight yet, so let's just hold off on that. But, PPS--Holy smokes! When had my family grown up?

Later in the kitchen, I told my mom that I was kind of dreading my birthday a little this year. (This is very unusual for me, I normally LOVE my birthday). But for some reason, twenty-eight feels like my thirty. It just sounds sort of old and scary. And, in some ways I'm not where I thought I'd be at this point. I just don't feel old enough for that to be my age.

When I told my mom this, she just laughed and said, "Do you think I feel old enough to be (insert typical mom age here). FYI: She would cry if I posted her age. But, then my mom continued and said, "Lauren, you keep getting better with age." (Just like a fine wine, right?) And, in a more serious tone she said, "It's true. In the past few years, I've really watched you mature, and I am so impressed and proud of the person that you grew up to be." I am getting choked up typing this. And, not because what my mom said is so lovely. (And it is). But, it makes me think...Could anything be harder than being a parent? What could be harder than watching your babies turn into toddlers, who grow into children, who morph into teenagers, and finally come out as adults? My god. I can hardly cope with the fact that my friends and I are growing up, let alone watch this happen to someone who I have birthed and raised myself.

So, as another year comes to an end, and another one begins, I will do my best to remain positive and find some redeeming qualities that twenty-eight has to offer. Signing off, Lauren, age twenty-seven and eleven/twelfths.

When You're Here, You're Family

When my close friend Dan and I met for drinks tonight in Chelsea, we never dreamed that after a few rounds of drinks at a bar, our night would end at the Olive Garden. Yes, that's right. Of all the incredible restaurants that New York City has to offer, we simply could not help ourselves. We suddenly craved unlimited bread sticks and salad, and we could not be stopped. No, we did not plan to go to the Olive Garden, and also be the last two to leave. But, it happened. And, we are the better for it.

Winter Bacation

Greetings from Winter Vacation, Official Day #1.

This past weekend was definitely a good one. On Friday, I had my school's holiday party. It was literally Teachers Gone Wild. The entire faculty and staff were drunk by noon. It's a funny thing, day drinking, in your work clothes, with your co-workers. A funny, but also amazing thing. The holiday party was done right. The party was set at the Boat House in Central Park, and a DJ played my favorite tunes. (No, really. He actually played all of my favorite songs). Everyone danced. Not just a few people, I'm taking the entire staff. It warmed my heart. Our after party went until 7:30 pm. (Mind you, our holiday party started at 11 am). I was a champ, making it to the finish line. That is, until I came home, took a shower, passed out soaking wet, completely naked on my bed, and did not wake up until morning.

On Saturday, one of my highschool besties got engaged. Not only is she my bestie, but her boyfriend, (now fiance) is also my friend too. In fact, he maaay have even been my boyfriend in sixth grade. (It's fine. We never kissed with tongue). It was magical celebrating the engagement, and it makes me even more excited for the wedding. (This excitement may also have something to do with ninety-five percent of the wedding party attending Livingston High School).

I'll be honest. Usually, when I hear about engagements and weddings, I tend to feel the exact opposite of happy. I'm not a bad friend, and I want my friends to be happy. It's just...I can't help but wonder when my time will come too. It's not that I want to get married tomorrow either, but I wouldn't mind getting past the stages of booty calls, and deciphering instant messages. Basically, I'd like to evolve past the age of twenty-one, in my romantic endeavors. It almost feels like being left behind a little. Sure, I know it's certainly not a race, but when Facebook tells me that eight more people I know have gotten engaged or married... it does hurt my single lady heart a little. And, though most engagement announcements bring some conflicted feelings on my end...this one did not...and, I cannot wait for this Livingston High School wedding!!!

#300

Hello! And, welcome to my 300th blog post.

It's been a long week. And, to be quite honest, not the best one that I've had in a while. You, (or Daniel Powter) could say I had a bad day. (Or four). But, what cheered me up through a somewhat crappy week? Well, this: Thinking about Ryan softly singing in my ear...Had a Bad Day...in Danish. And, suddenly...not such a bad day anymore!

But, now it's FRIDAY! (Heyyy, Rebecca Black!!) It's time to put the blues of this week behind me and say some things.

When I like a new song, I REALLY like it. Last week I walked home from work. (A sixty-five block walk, the equivalent to a little over three miles). My walk took about forty-five minutes. I listened to We Found Love, by Rhianna, the whole way, on repeat, for sixty-five blocks. <3

To the girl, who makes my morning commute, soft and sometimes somber--Adele. Even though, your lyrics make me want to die a little on the inside...and, I'm so sorry that you got your heart broken... please don't ever stop singing the way you do.

I've worn the same pair of sweatpants and t-shirt to sleep every night for the last three weeks. Am I gross?

Also, no matter what time of day, (even if I have to go right back out again), Upon getting home from ANYTHING, I must change into my pajamas, immediately.

And, ladies. What better feeling is there, then taking your bra off at the end of a long day!!!? BOYS. You will just have to take my word for it. It's da bomb.

Also, I have gone to bed by 9:30 every night this week. I have the same bed time as some of my ten year old students. Help!!

Last weekend, I was talking to a handsome Australian man at Beauty Bar. Mid conversation, Becca Girl walked by and yelled in our general direction. "Isn't my friend really funny and pretty?" Subtle? Well, no. But, sweet and supportive? Absolutely.

You know that e-mail that is going around? The one from that crazy guy Mike to the girl he went on a date with one time, Lauren? It's been posted to like every website of social relevance. To those of you who have asked me if I am the Lauren in the e-mail. No, I am not. Though, I do agree, that is most definitely something that would happen to me.

And, finally...it's been almost three years, and 300 blog postings later, since I began writing Go Fish. My class that inspired me to write...are now 7th graders, looking more awkward and uncomfortable than ever before. And, me...I'm an almost twenty-eight year old with a 9:30 bed time. Here's to the next 300...