Friday, the 13th. A superstitious day. A dangerous day. And periodically, my birthday. Though I wasn't born on a Friday, I have had the pleasure of celebrating my entrance into this world on Friday the 13th several times (one of you calendar fanatics can do the math on how many times). I cross the threshold of my 30s today. I can no longer say I am teetering on its brink - I have officially dove into its deep waters and am actually okay with it. But I'll save a long soliloquy on my thoughts about my age, how much better/worse it is than my 20s, my hopes and dreams for the future and other such nonsense, for another darker day. "Happy Birthday Coco! This is Lola."
Conversations like that I guess make you feel okay about time passing and things changing. New people like Lola get to come into your life that way.




