On being an adult.

I can't tell you the first time I thought, "Damn, I'm an adult".

I can tell you I didn't think it the first time I made a paycheck, or the first time I had a period, or had sex.  I didn't feel it when I turned 13 or 16 or 18 or 21. Or 25.  Or 30.  Jeez.

I felt it a little the day I cast my first ballot.  I felt it a little when I did my own taxes for the first time.  And when I moved out of my parents house.  And when I got Lola.  Went on my first business trip.

And when I got engaged, got married, moved to Nashville, changed my name...

When Dad has his heart attack, and I helped find his rehab facility.    When I had to have Lola euthanized.

And on it goes.

What I'm saying is that I've grown up in increments, over a lifetime.

I remember thinking, as a kid, that when I was grown up, it would be awesome, because I would be able to eat cookie dough for dinner if I wanted to.

Oh my, my.  Oh, Hell yes!

It's been a good while since I've done that, to be honest with you.

And there's still plenty of childhood left in my life.  We play almost as much as we work, and I nap plenty. 

But I also step up and do the right thing for the people in my life when I have to - even if the right thing isn't the easy thing.  Usually the right thing isn't as easy - that's one thing I've learned as a quasi adult.

Here's the thing, though - I'm happy.  I'm actually a productive member of society - a good worker, wife, daughter and friend.

No, I don't have kids, and thanks, but I don't want them.  Another dog, yes, please!  But not soon. 

I make good money, I pay my bills and I am charitable.

I have friends and a fun social life, but I take time to reflect and I enjoy my alone time, too.

I'm good.

But I would love some cookie dough.