Crisis averted?

It's been one existential crisis after another for me the past couple days, I could not even tell you why. First off, I ran into a friend from high school at the mall on Saturday. Wait. Take this in. I graduated from high school in Oregon in 1998...so, all the way across the country and 12 years ago. And then here it was, Saturday at Tysons Corner, and I heard my name, turned around, and saw my friend. From high school. In Oregon. 12 years ago. Weird, right? It was surreal, and my head's still spinning.

And then there was the matter of the ants. It's Saturday night, I'm going to the kitchen to fill up my water glass, when I notice some movement out of the corner of my eye. I do sort of a slow double take and manage to focus on the SWARMS of ants all over the Bossy Cat's food bowl. You know, I like to think of myself as pretty even-keeled, good in a crisis, quick on my feet, but this? This floored me and brought me to a complete halt, and honestly, if it hadn't been for CameraMan, I might have stood there rocking and keening all night long. Luckily, CM is actually even-keeled, good in a crisis, and quick on his feet. He was out the door to buy ant poison and ant traps before I had the chance to break down, and then he was back, and we were spraying the ants dead (oh, yes, ants have feelings too, but I don't care—I'm crazy bloodthirsty like that) and laying the traps all along their trail, and I was finally able to calm down. And there's been no sign of them since, no brave ones, no stragglers, no ants of any kind, and I'm just now quelling the feeling of being attacked in our own home. Is there anything worse than insects in your house? I can't think of much—tell me, is there anything worse?

Of course I had a lovely day yesterday—mood swings are tricky like that, you know? The lowest low is often followed by the highest high, or barring that, at the very least a lovely day.

But today was the other swing of the pendulum, and all of a sudden I was feeling OLD. I know, I know, I'm only 28, but it's just now dawning on me that I'm not the youngest anymore. For years, for practically my whole life, I was younger than everyone I knew. Younger can be embarrassing, but it's also a source of pride, as you arrive at milestones before everybody else. But now, "pushing" 30, there are very few milestones I could find that haven't been reached by other people I know, some of them my age, some of them even younger. And I miss being the youngest, being precocious or ahead of the game. I'm still on track, I think, but I'm not ahead of the pack. CM says this happens to everyone, that at some point you look around and realize you aren't moving forward in leaps and bounds; you're just doing what you do, and living your life, and just happy to be doing it well. I think I can get used to that, but it's still a shock to realize that as I take the next steps in my life, I wouldn't be a particularly young director, or an especially young bride, or a surprisingly young mother. I would just be me, doing what I do, living my life, and trying to do it well.

Without much happening, it's managed to be an eventful couple days. I've given it quite a bit of thought, and I've decided the best thing to do is to chalk it all up to hormonal shifts of some kind.

After all, I am pushing 30.