30 Before 30

In case you haven't already heard me whine about it, I'm turning 30 this year. October 15 was my half-birthday and in an effort not to enter full on freak out mode about my impending exit from my twenties, I decided to celebrate these last six months instead by accomplishing a few things I haven't quite gotten around to the last 29.5 years. Some of them will be easy, some of them will be a challenge (hello, Oprah!), and some of them will take the entire six months, so I better get cracking.

1. Try water skiing
2. Throw an '80's party
3. Try acupuncture
4. Paint a canvas for the house
5. Find the perfect shade of red lipstick
6. Have a shaving cream fight
7. Improve my photography skills
8. Visit Chicago
9. Catch up on my scrapbooks
10. See Wicked
11. Eat a fresh fig with honey and walnuts
12. Learn HTML code
13. Give serious thought to dying my hair red
14. Have a girls weekend with my college besties
15. Get in the best shape of my life (work out consistently)
16. Have boudoir shots taken
17. Visit the Indianapolis Zoo
18. Take a pole dancing class
19. Try a cuisine I've never tried before (Lebanese or Indian?)
20. Decorate our bedroom
21. Try snow boarding
22. Attend an Oprah show taping
23. Get knocked up
24. Serve in a soup kitchen or food pantry
25. Complete my dream closet
26. Do something completely impulsive
27. Kiss in the rain (or snow!)
28. Go dancing in Vegas
29. Attend at least 2 concerts
30. Learn to relax and enjoy turning 30!

It's a short trip to Crazy Town

I used to pride myself on having a good memory. I never forgot a face. I could accurately identify every unlabeled baby picture in my mother's photo albums box of family photos. I could sit in a college class, pay decent attention and pull out a B without ever cracking a book.

And then I hit the real world. And got a job that completely fried my brain. The more responsibility I gained, the more completely useless information I was required to store in my increasingly overtaxed brain.

So now, while I still have an excellent memory, much of it is useless. I can recite every policy and procedure my old company had for the credit card program. I can parse out a VIN for you and tell you exactly what each section means, down to where your vehicle was built. I can recall the name of every vendor I did business with. during my 4.5 years there

But it seems I have no room left for any new information. You know, like the names of co-workers or vendors I presently work with. Or the fact that our anniversary is tomorrow and I completely forgot until yesterday.

I have always been a master list maker, but now I need lists of my lists. I live in a world populated by calendars, To Do lists and bright orange sticky notes. If I don't write it down, I will forget. I keep a notepad by my bed so I can write down all the things I think of while I'm lying there desperately trying to turn off my brain and sleep. I tote my To Do list with me practically everywhere I go.

My latest forget-me-not inspiration? My Palm Pre. Every time I think of something I want to add to my To Do list, I email it to myself. My inbox is full of notes to self: blog post ideas, emails I need to send, appointments I need to make, books I want to read.

Am I the only one who wishes she had a delete file function in her brain? What tricks do you use to keep yourself from losing your mind?

It's not a mid-life crisis until someone gets a tattoo

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Well, hello there. I'm back.

Miss me?

I'd like to say I'm back and better than ever, after my longer-than-expected technological hiatus. But that wouldn't be quite true. Is there a such thing as a third-of-life crisis? Because I'm pretty sure I'm having one.

You know how when men have a mid-life crisis, they dye their hair, or get a random tattoo, or run out and buy a convertible?

Yeah, that's totally happening to me.

Suddenly, everywhere I look, there are sassy, sporty, suh-weet convertibles - and I want one.

• I see myself zipping downtown to work each day in black Nissan 370Z.
  

• I dream of Saturday afternoon shopping trips with a girlfriend in my red Mini Cooper.

• I envision sexy summer date nights with Nate in my slate gray Infiniti G37.

Who cares that it's only top-down weather like three months out of the year? Never mind that I'd be terrified to be on a snowy interstate in a Mini Cooper what basically amounts to a tin Campbell's soup can. Room for a baby seat, groceries, suitcases? Who needs 'em?

Five years ago when I could have had any car I wanted, I chose the biggest mid-sized family car I could find. It never even crossed my 24-year-old mind to get a sporty two-door, let alone a convertible. But now that I'm a grown-up, responsible, almost thirty-year-old, trying to procreate woman?

I WANT A CONVERTIBLE AND I WANT ONE BAD.

Practicality be damned.