My little sister turned 30 this weekend.
Doesn't the universe understand that I'm still 19 years old?! Why does the sun insist on rising and setting every day, three hundred sixty five times every year, making the years pile up on each other so that now ... here we are. Adults with homes and problems and and the major concern of late being the lack of insulation in the walls. God, how boring.
The good news is this cheesecake was really, really good. Perhaps my best yet. The bad news is my metabolism slows down every day and I may as well have taped eight ounce packets of cream cheese directly to my stomach.
I just want you to know we used to be really cute. On this day our biggest concern was probably how much candy was going to be in our Easter baskets. Now we are grown ups. That curly haired blonde is 32 weeks pregnant, married, working as a teacher. And I'm all grown up and shit, too. Married, making dinner, cleaning up cat vomit, frantically writing a book, terrorizing the internet with my inanity.
I don't like it, man. At least if I have to be grown up, can I have nice skin?