Thirty-three

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Three years ago my better half hosted a surprise party for me. “Surprise” being the operative word since I nearly had a heart attack and I think I’m still reeling. But it was one of the best gifts ever and I was genuinely touched. Turning 30 was odd nonetheless and I didn’t really accept it until I was several months in 32. But I’ve been waiting my whole life to turn 33 and I’m stoked.

Don’t let the Smashing Pumpkins fool you, 33 isn’t cast in the gloom their eponymous song would lead you to believe. It’s pretty awesome. As the Museum of Conceptual Art shows lots of people did great things at this stage in life. To be honest, I couldn’t tell you what 33 feels like. My mental age has been stuck at 27 and might be for the rest of my life.


To anyone raised Catholic, 33 is a pretty important number. But for people like me that are obsessed with trios, possibly because we were raised Catholic, 33 is the ultimate. Obviously, since I couldn’t relish turning 3 I need to especially celebrate the double threes. Pasta and a movie in a flashy theater await!

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