with slight aging comes slight changes in taste

I turned 30 this week. Woohoo! In celebration I made 750 Christmas cookies.


I ate my share.

It was a rockin’ party. Too rockin’ actually, since I didn’t have time to run around taking pictures of people while I was shoveling food out of the kitchen (food that my mother made… but I still had to serve it up!). I also severely overestimated the amount of alcohol I had to buy. I’m kind of disappointed in my guests, actually. On the plus side, I have an unopened handle of rum and a ludicrous amount of economy sangria with my name on it.

I feel like I’m supposed to do some sort of navel-gazing about hitting a milestone age, but life feels the same as it did last week (i.e. I still accidentally say I’m 28), so how about I give you a list of vague evolutions regarding superficial interests instead. THRILL as I settle into early adulthood and begin to wonder if maybe I do need a retirement plan.

Things I Used to Hate and Now I Don’t Love Exactly, but I Certainly Don’t Hate Anymore:

  • Soup. I was once renowned for my hatred of liquid food, so it’s a betrayal of my teenage self to admit that actually, there are a lot of good soups out there. It turns out that I only really hate chicken noodle soup. Love yourselves, people. Pasta is meant to be served al dente, not all sogged up in a can of chicken stock! Instead enjoy a hearty pureed vegetable or something with red pepper and gouda.
  • Socks. Is there anything worse than hot feet? What’s that, you say? There are very many things worse than hot feet? Well I have matured on this topic. In fact, I am wearing fuzzy socks at this very moment. I’m so cold. Send help.
  • Physical exertion. Okay I’ll never love working out but I think I could stand to own a stationary bike or something of that nature, and I’m no longer writing essays on the pointlessness of P.E.
  • Coffee. Ignore the section title: this one is a transformation from hatred to undying love. Once you acquire coffee it is tough to turn back. Stay with me on my darkest days, oh roasted bean of the heavens.

And on the flip side:

Things I Used to Love and Now I Don’t Hate Exactly, but I Certainly Don’t Love Anymore:

  • Eminem. I was 16, dammit and not inclined to analyze lyrics! Oh god don’t look at me, stop looking at me, let’s never mention this again!
  • Johnny Depp. You were once the main man on Hunk Island but you have been voted off the island, sir. Unanimously. What happened?
  • Urban fantasy. Again, I don’t hate it, and there are still a couple series on my Buy list, but wow did the tropes pile up in this genre. I wrote some embarrassingly derivative fiction in my tender post-pubescence (you know the type: full of romance by a writer who’s never been past second base), but now I see right through you, Strong Female Characters.
  • Malt beverages. Oh the dark days of Smirnoff Ice and wine coolers. AKA the “I want to drink alcohol now but eww I have not developed the taste for it” phase. My current drinks of choice are: white wines, Long Islands, rum-based anythings. Come back in another ten years and I suppose I’ll be into red wine and whiskey.

And finally:

Things I Tolerate Because I Am An Adult Now and I Have No Choice:

  • Phone calls. Yeah I guess I will make my own doctor’s appointment since the alternative is hastened death.
  • Going to the bank. Not sure why this is still a necessity but fine, I don’t want to lose the money rudely sent to me via check.
  • Carefully planned grocery trips. It really is so much cheaper than picking up dinner on the fly all the time, but god as my witness I will not become a coupon clipper.

So there you have it. Thirty years old and I’m basically still the same person except that now I’m a parent and a homeowner and an archivist and I drink wine with my book club and go to bed at 9 pm.

Happy Holidays and may your chests burst with seasonal joy!