I was excited to turn thirty. Thirty, I felt, brought some legitimacy to my existence. I wasn't just a silly twenty-something anymore. I was THIRTY. A woman in her thirties is informed and doesn't take any nonsense from anyone. A woman in her thirties flosses regularly and doesn't drink cheap beer. A woman in her thirties knows who she is, and likes it.

Soon, most every decision I made was prefaced with, 'A woman in her thirties does or doesn't do that...' I like to think that this was endearing to those around me, but let's be honest.

It was annoying. My friend S said, 'You should write a book called A Woman in her Thirties', which was her nice way of saying, 'Geez, shut up already.' Little did she know that she was the inspiration for this blog, and the reason my 'Woman in her thirties' mantra is still with me.

My original post is here.

Over the years, this blog has morphed into a chronicle of my life. The ups, downs, and ups again. I am happily married and beyond fortunate to be home with these guys full time:

I'm a former high school English teacher.  A book-nerd extraordinaire.  A woman in her thirties who is learning as she goes.

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