“Did you read my blog today?  When are you going to blog again?”

How ’bout now?

Since Mr. Apron turned 30 earlier this month, I’ve unfortunately been reflecting on aging right along with him, and somehow or another, I’ve begun to think of myself as having turned 30 with him, thus depriving myself of the next 17 months.  Though not quite as fast as Robin Williams’ character aged in “Jack” that movie that, to quote Mr. Apron, “No one ever saw” (“I did, too!” I protested), I felt like I have accelerated my aging, and unfairly I’ll admit.  I’m not 30, and I won’t stand for it until it actually happens.  So there.

But while age may only be a number, and you’re only as old as you feel, I’m starting to see signs of my embracing what is to come, whether that means an end to wearing Spongebob barrettes (NEVER.  YOU WILL PRY THEM FROM MY COLD, DEAD 106 YEAR OLD RIGOR MORTIS’D HANDS), or simply seeking comfort in a suburban lifestyle and being in pajamas by 8pm (Yes, this has already happened.  Half of Philly never changes out of their PJ’s, so, again, I’m ahead of the masses.) I’m noticing things about myself I didn’t before.  No, not the cruel combination of wrinkles and acne.  Not the abyssmal pace at which I climb that stupid hill behind the art museum.  Things around me.

For example, I take thrill in finding a good parking spot by our house, and in being able to parallel park my little Fit into the spot the neighbors couldn’t with their land-yachts and inferior parking skills.  Last night, even Mr. Apron with his “compact luxury” car couldn’t fit into the spot I left open.  Yes, this excites me.  I turn my nose up at the whole block.

Tonight, finally relaxing after mad dashes through harrowing traffic and round-the-block trips coaxing the dogs to leave deposits, I watched “Minute to Win it”.  I saw an engaged couple go for $50,000, plus bonuses because it was “Wedding Week” (something to compete with season finales, I suppose).  When the fiancé catapulted 4 marshmallows into a cup he was holding in under a minute, I said, “How nice for them!”  And.  I meant it.  Who says that!

As Mr. Apron looks for jobs, and as I jealously patrol the job boards in search of employment porn, I find myself gushing over the benefits packages.  “Oooh, look honey.  They offer 10% matching on the 403b after only 8 months.  10%!  That’s unheard of!!”  That was a conversation in our home tonight.  We are officially old.

Finally, after being promised warned by my mother that she would not come visit unless/until we had upgraded the (functional, yet mediocre) coffee pot and the (broken, loud, ineffective) living room air conditioner, we broke down and went to Sears at the mall.  The Energy Star model we ended up bringing home made us all squishy in the pants becuase we can not only use it towards an income tax write-off for 2010, but PECO (local electric/gas co.) is offering a $50 rebate on new Energy Star A/C units.  Squishy in the pants over tax write-offs and energy rebates, folks. 

Welcome to the middle-age state of mind.  We have the house, the cars, and the dogs.  Bring on the mini-van and 2.2 children, world.  We’re ready.