30.

Today,

is my birthday.

The big three-oh.

Here are some photos

I managed to dig up

last night

of the last 29 years.

I know this appears to be a photo of my darling
too-cute-for-freakin'-words
eldest daughter, Elena.
But no. You're eyes do not deceive you.

It's actually me.  I must have been about the same age she is now...

 One year,
just before Christmas,
I lost my two front teeth.
Yep.
Just like the song.
I was sooooo cool.

And had the best lisssthp.

My Granny Bananny.

Dearest Helen.

She gave the best back tickles.

And she hid candy in the fruit drawer of her refrigerator.

Which is probably why she was perfectly squishy for cuddling. 

San Francisco.  1987.  Pajamas purchased IN Chinatown.
You should see the shoes that I got with this outfit.
Beaded.
Glittery.
Heeled.
Bright-ass-pink.

Yep, I was only six.
But I had style.

I'm wearing deck shoes.
With a lavender sweatsuit.
Riding a bike with a banana seat.

S.T.Y.L.E.

One of the kids in this yearbook is me.
Can you guess which one?

Even I had a hard time picking me out.
Hint: Middle row. I look like a boy. Chubbly cheeks. Bad hair.

I, apparently, lost my sense of style.

Skip ahead.  Junior year of high school.
Short hair.
Dyed blue in the front.

Yep. Blue.

Rebel.

The kind of rebel that obviously didn't own a set of Tweezermans.
Get a load of those eyebrows!

My cousin Nick and me.
Junior Prom.
1997.

No. He was not my date.
We grew up in Wisconsin, not Kentucky.

He went with my bestie, Allison.

This is our American Gothic impersonation.
Sans the garden tools.
And I apparently missed the memo on the whole
"don't smile" thing.

This is one of my senior pictures.
I'm dressed in my snowboarder attire.

Sidenote: When I was seventeen,
my mom asked me if I, uh, you, know,
liked,
uh,
girls?

I thought her question came out of left field.

In hindsight,
I now see it was a completely logical thing to ask.

I'm the short one on the right.
The one that looks like me.
Yep.
That one.
Right there.

With two of my best high school friends.
The girl on the left, Brett, and I were inseparable from 6th grade on.
I'm happy to say we are still friends.

Skip ahead to
the one and only professional photo shoot I've ever done.
And one of the few usable photos from it.
I was twenty years old.

An entire decade ago.

The day I found my wedding dress.
The second year of my twenties.

My tornado-ridden wedding day.

For a very short period in my life
I actually had a bikini body.

My honeymoon was one such occasion.

The last month of my twenties.
Seven years, two kids, two cankles, one marriage, one three-legged dog, and one big fat move later.

Thank you,
all of you,
for being a part of my thirty.

Xo
A