As an update of sorts, Amy's grandfather's operation was successful and we did, in fact, receive a good phone call that evening. However, he is currently back in the hospital due to some spills that he has taken and supposedly they discovered that he was showing some symptoms of pneumonia as well. So, we're all pulling for his quick recovery.
So, I turned 30 recently and while I haven't had a whole lot of time to ponder the meaning of the event after the fact, a thought crossed my mind this morning that may prove to be accurate over time. Basically, I hypothesized that because the tens position on my odometer has rolled past "2" I will no longer think about my birthday in the same status-obsessed fashion. Even in one's 20's, there are a handful of birthday's that bear some rite of passage along with them. At 21, you can legally imbibe. At 25, your car insurance drops to its most significantly (and relatively speaking) low rate. Maybe I'm stretching a bit on that one, but it was a relief for me. Anyway, maybe at 30, seeing as though there are no more milestones until the number "4" rises to its haunches in attack, I won't really think about my chronological age. The anniversary will only be known as "my birthday" and not "my [blankieth] birthday".
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