"Thirty three is the best age to be," she told me.
So all my life I waited patiently to be thirty three.
And here we are. And here I am. And you know what? Thirty three is really nice, but it doesn't beat twenty nine. Twenty nine had all the right fixings of energy and hopefulness, naivete and wisdom with a huge helping of sass.
For me anyway.
I mean, if someone could please assure me that I will be twenty nine forever I will give up my horrid habit of laziness. Because you know, lazy people won't get into heaven.
In other news, here is a picture of Chup and me when I was twenty nine.
See? When I was twenty nine I wasn't lazy. I helped Chup hoist this AC unit to the top of our car and strap it down so it didn't flap in the wind on our way home from Idaho. I am not sure what the pitchfork had to do with it.
Along with my habit of laziness I should give up my habit of lying. I didn't not help Chup hoist this AC to the top of our car. Probably because I was lazy when I was twenty nine. But also probably not as lazy as I am at thirty three. But come on! Don't we get to be lazy in heaven anyway? Harps? Clouds? Wings?
Ok. In fact, if someone could promise me that both Chup and I could look like this in heaven for eternally I will give up laziness and lying. Package deal.
I love it when I write posts like this.
Chup writes about his favorite new sandwich:
I am c jane and I took a lot of pictures of myself when I was twenty nine. Also, it's not my birthday, I was just in a reflective mood when I wrote this.