THE LAST DAYS OF MY 20s
So here I am, almost a week away from another birthday (Side note: I turn 5x6 this year, a little math quiz for my journalism buddies) and I don't I feel like I'm a grown up just yet. I don't know if I will ever really be grown up, no matter how old I turn, and who knows if I'll ever decide what I want to be when I grow up.

(Another Side note: If this were a musical, I would burst into song at this point singing "I won't grow up" from Peter Pan or something, but it's not -- thank god, I don't have the bandwidth to post mp3s, so back to the original train of thought. What was it again?)

A lot of people set 6x5 to be some sort of magical number where the lightbulb clicks on and you have all wisdom of someone whose lived many years. When I was shorter, not any younger mind you, because I didn't grow up, 3x10 was such a old age. How they let those people wander the streets when they should be in nursing homes was beyond me. (Yet another side note: I seem to be filled with sidenotes today. Just ignore them, my mind is wandering, I'm getting OLD!) Maybe I should invest in a Lifecall in case I fall and can't get up.

Anyways, things are going fine here. The Masters is over, but the Boss is still embedded with the PGA Tour. I'm going on vacation soon (Is it May 12 yet?) and people will have weddings (some sooner and others later) and the population of the newspaper family will soon grow by one. April is half over and it feels like this year has just begun. Hope you paid your taxes. They are due today ( Wow, that was kind of grown up of me. Uh oh)

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