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It's the first of June during my thirtieth year. That seems like a milestone of sorts. A good one, at that.

I like being thirty. I like the way it feels to say it, so I say it often. I like who I am at thirty, and I like that I pass for thirty, even though my friends say I look younger. I know that even if I haven't got any major wrinkles yet, my eyes give me away. There is a hope there that comes with living, the kind of living that takes time, say thirty years or so.

I've seen things, done things, had things happen to me, and made things happen to other people. I've loved my fair share, and been loved way more than is fair. While I have done things that I'm not proud of, I wouldn't say that I spend any time on regret. It's a wasted emotion. There is one thing I have learned very well, and that is that energy for emotions should be conserved. I think wasting too much emotional energy on things like regret, envy, self-pity and anger is what makes someone old.

I'm not where I thought I would be at this age. I thought I would be a mother and a wife. Instead, I'm in the process of dissolving a marriage, and the only children in my life are my sister's babies. I'm okay with both of those facts, and I still hope to be a wife again one day, and a mother.

And so here I am, on a pleasantly cool morning, happy in my skin and ready for what comes next. I can't wait to see where I am on my next first of June.

Okay, way longer than a minute.  But I am like that sometimes, I leave things, or people, or interests for long periods of time, and then come back like I was never gone.  With people I have been lucky in that they always let me come back. 

So here I am!  Let's see what I can get up to. 

How do you handle phone calls from telemarketers?

That's a silly question. 

I don't handle them at all.  I have caller ID, so I don't answer if I know it's not a person calling, and at work, I tell them it's a business, or that we're not interested, and that's it.

I wonder why I used to get so worked up about them...

What method do you use to prepare your coffee or tea? 
Submitted by AgentBouche.

Today, on my first day of vacation, I made what I like to call the "ghetto mocha."  Put a packet of hot chocolate in your cup, then fill it up with regular hot coffee and stir.  Tah-dah!  Ghetto Mocha.

stell-belle

Show us a picture that's worth a thousand words.
Submitted by sami711.

I just got back to work after applying for my passport.  We're going on a cruise to the Caribbean the first week of April.  So far, that hasn't managed to get me excited.  It's just too far away, not concrete yet.  But the passport, now the passport has got me very excited. 

Once I have it in my hot little hands, I will be capable of leaving the country at the drop of a hat.  Which I probably won't, but I'll be able to, if I want.  I will have the authorization to become a world traveler.  I love the possibilities that will open for me.

Eight years ago today, my sister gave me the most beautiful gift anyone has ever received.  She held my hand, and gave birth to Ian James, the first baby I watched being born, the first minute old person I've held, and the first child that taught me about truly unconditional love.

I thought I understood all kinds of things, after all, I was twenty, almost twenty-one.  But in those thirty seconds or so, between his arrival, and his first breath, I learned things that I'll never forget.  I learned how quickly I can fall in love, and how fast my heart will try to bargain with God, when the one I love doesn't seem to be breathing.  I learned that I'll never be able to repay my sister for making me an aunt, unless I'm able to make her one in return.  And also, I learned that until I have a child of my own, I'll never understand the depth of my own mother's love.

One very small boy taught me that, all in the space of less than thirty seconds.  And today is his birthday.  He sent me an email, announcing that fact, and I told him, "Happy Birthday baby boy!  I love you so much, and I'm so glad you're mine."  He wrote back, "I got a skatboard."  But my mother, who was helping him email me, told me that he looked up at her, after reading my words, and said, "I love being Tia's baby boy."

He's kind, generous and thoughtful beyond his years.  Give him a dollar to spend at the dollar store, and without fail, he'll buy a gift for someone.  He takes care of his younger sister even though she terrorizes him, and wants to teach his baby brother how to be just like him.  He still wants to cuddle, even though he's too big for my lap, and he's quick to crack a joke that shows how smart he is, and how quick he catches on to humor.

I know it's still early to say such things, but I already know I'm going to be so proud of the man he becomes, even if I still call him my baby boy.

Have you ever met any celebrities? Any interesting stories?
Submitted by Tasha.

Joe and I were in line at McDonald's inside the MGM Grand hotel in Las Vegas.  Just minding our own bidness.  When a guy came up, followed by his large, black, body guard.  I knew he was one of the Backstreet Boys, but I had no idea which one.  I just looked at him, thought, "Wow, he's just a little guy."  I knew that Joe had no idea who he was.  Then, the Backstreet Boy started chatting up my husband.  And before I could say, "Hey, wait a minute," Joe was letting him cut in front of us.  What the heck!  I was so mad.  I mean, sure, he had a "Celebrity" golf tournament for charity to go to, but we had stuff to do too!

I was standing there, trying to smile politely, and I happened to look behind him, and saw a large group of thirteen-year-old girls running toward him, making surprisingly little noise.  I was about to smile in anticipation of him getting rushed, and me and Joe getting our spot in line back, when suddenly, the bodyguard stepped between the Backstreet Boy and the mob of teenage girls, and crossed his arms and said, "Not.  Today.  Girls." 

They instantly stopped their headlong rush into the Backstreet Boy, slumped their shoulders and put on their pouty faces en masse, and slunk away.  The most interesting thing I've ever seen.

And that's my one brush with celebrity.

No, I can never give my pets normal names.  What fun is that?  This is Lupita of the Frozen Tundra. 

Lupita, because we were watching "Man on Fire," the night we got her, and Frozen Tundra because we were right in the middle of this long ass cold snap here.  (It was below 30 degrees for over two weeks.  That's insane here.  It snowed, and instead of melting the same day, it stayed for a week.  Pure insanity!  Joe missed a week of work because they wouldn't let them on the roads with all the ice and snow.)  The good thing about Lupita as a name, is that it's shortened to Pita, which is also an acronym for Pain In The Ass.  And a fitting acronym it is.

She's beautiful, and fun, and sleeps on my feet or my keyboard, whichever I'm feeling would be a better fit at the moment.

She's obsessed with the shower.  The second she hears me slide the shower curtain open every morning, she comes running, and jumps up on the lip of the tub, so she can watch water droplets slide down the wall.  I kid you not.

She has a pink collar, with plenty of bling bling, and pretty pink toes to match.

Yes, I'm just a little bit smitten, but I promise to not become one of those cat people.  You know, the ones that carry a picture of their cat in their wallet?  Okay, well, maybe I will do that, but come on, look at this face, who could resist?!  And as a slight disclaimer on my part, I did recently get a brand new digital camera, and I can only take so many pictures of my own face.