I’ve been going to the gym at some odd times lately. This is in part because I feel I’m at an interesting point in my life, where I can go to the gym at, say 11 a.m. on a Wednesday, so why not? My schedule varies, and I have strange periods of free time in the middle of the day. Despite the fact that I’m trying very hard to enjoy this (for instance, by going to the gym when it’s less crowded and attempting to revel in how great that is - “I can do whatever I want whenever I want!”) I’ve discovered that it’s just not me, it makes me feel weird, and even if I spend the rest of my life doing things like freelancing for newspapers and picking up the odd work where I can get it, I’m really best suited to a normal-person schedule. 9-5, really. Boring, I know. But growing up sometimes means accepting the boring old truth. Like accepting that I really like to go to bed early. That too much dairy sort of makes my stomach hurt. That I’m never going to make the Broadway cast of any musical, because, let’s face it, I’m just not talented in that way.

One thing I do like, however, about going to the gym in the middle of the day, besides it being much less crowded than the early morning or right after work, is that things in general are more relaxed. People change the television stations without asking anybody, for example, because no one really cares. No one is missing the morning or evening news. And really, it’s slim pickings on television midday. So whatever goes.

Today I was on the elliptical, listening to some 80s music I’d uploaded to my iPod and wondering if anyone could tell that I was kicking my endorphins into gear with the help of a-ha’s hit song “Take On Me,” and hoping they couldn’t, because I wanted them to think I was cooler than that. I was glancing at the TVs up against the far wall from time to time, making sure I wasn’t missing anything good, when I noticed that a tiny little Asian lady using the treadmill had switched one set to Lifetime, and that on Lifetime at this particular hour was a movie, some typical Lifetime movie (a.k.a. an awesome movie that I could easily spend two or three hours getting totally into) but that in this particular made-for-tv movie some lucky woman was about to have sex, and in order to get this point across very clearly, the producers of the film had provided the audience with a close up of her un-zipping her jeans, and then cut to a scene with the woman and her boyfriend (and if I know Lifetime, he was probably going to kill her later) in bed. You know, doing it. You couldn’t see anything vital, of course, but they were clearly doing it. And I know that that’s totally normal now-a-days, suggested sex on the small screen, but this was pretty intense. And then I looked around and realized that I was watching it with a bunch of other people, just working out, who had been minding their own business, but were suddenly watching a sex scene together, and that’s why Lifetime is dangerous - because you think it’s totally fine to turn it on whenever, I mean, TV for women? Sounds safe to me. But then all of a sudden you’re watching an almost-soft porn movie with a room full of strangers.

“Hey, could you come here for a minute.”

“Yes?”

“Ok, see all these numbers? These are minutes and seconds, and I need to add them all up to get the total. What would be the best way to do that?”

“Well…you just have to add it all up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just sit here and add each one up, one by one.”

“There’s no easier way?”

“No.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“No. This is going to kill me. This is going to put me in the grave.”

“You’re such a wimp. I do this all day long.”

“You do what?”

“MATH.”

(Silence.)

“Well, you know what I do all day long?”

“What?”

“I call up STRANGERS and ask them what they’re up to. ‘Hi. I’m Cara McDonough. What are you doing today?’”

“Ok, ok, we’re even.”

I awoke with my head fuzzy this morning due to the night out last night, drinking with pretty much everyone I know in the state of North Carolina, and being forced to take a shot called a “red-headed slut” more than once, which goes against all I believe in (specifically, that shots shouldn’t have more than one word in their name and shouldn’t contain more than one type of liquor and shouldn’t be served in glasses bigger than, well, a shot glass).

In addition to the physical strain I felt annoyed that I am now officially 29, and there’s no party tonight to celebrate like there was yesterday, and then I realized that I have two full days of local government meetings to cover next week and I’ve really got to get on this whole doing something great with my life, and that that’s going to be tough because really the only things I want to do are become the next David Sedaris or maybe have my own party-planning firm. And, you know, I’m not quite sure how to make those things happen just yet.

Needless to say, the below email made me feel much, much better.

From: Fred Rotondaro
To: Cara McDonough
Date: Jan 6, 2007
Subject: Becoming 29

Is not just a big thing. You are still a kid. A year away from the line at the beginning og adulthood. 11 years from full entry into the human race.
Is it true the church says everybody who dies before 40 stays in limbo on the theory they could not, because of immaturity, be responsible for their sin? Malkes sens to me.
But 29 is not totally meaningless. You start worrying about your future, aboutfamily and contributing to mankind to make the world better because you lived
But the lure of the next party comes and then , what the hell, next time I will do it.
But 29 can be a forhing of relationships. A time when yu hone skills in a job you love. You gotta love it not just like or need for the money. It has to be fun. Important to you.
What do you hae the most fun doing, dennis wholley asks.
Yeah. 29 is more of the same but blended with deeper ties, more commitment to doing well at a work that,s fin, and realization that human beinness is only 11 ywars awat
Dad

Tomorrow is my birthday, and I’ll be turning 29. 29, as in the year before 30. Despite this, I’m pretty excited. This year my birthday is on a Friday, which is nice, and as always, my birthday is a mere five days after the first day of the new year, making it easy to talk about each year and my current age in a nice, neat package. For instance, In 2000, when I was 22 for almost the entire year, I graduated college and moved to North Carolina. Pretty big year, 2000 and 22-years-old.

In 2006, when I was 28, some major, if perhaps less major than graduating and starting a new life, things happened. Some were annoying and made me feel old and that my health was failing. Like when I noticed a burst capillary on the end of my nose. Or when I hurt my hip, like a grandma. Or, you know, when I became convinced I had cancer allowed myself to fall into a downward spiral of self-indulgent insanity.

Mostly, of course, a lot of great things happened in 2006. Some, good but sad, like making the decision to leave my job at The Chatham News, and some simply mind-blowingly awesome and relaxing, like spending a month in Maine with some of my best friends, my little brother and his rock band.

I think the most notable thing about this age, not just for me, but probably for many people, was all the contrast. Being willing, and able, to leave a job just because I wanted to do something crazy, but also seriously concerned about the consequences. Wanting to stay out late drinking with all my friends but being honestly angry at myself in the morning if I felt even the trace of a hangover. Starting to think very hard, and get excited, about having a family, but loving me and J’s alone time as a married couple, just the two of us. Enjoying the uncertainty, not knowing where we’ll move when J is done with grad school, but also wanting it set it stone so I can be ready to move on, or settle. Perfectly content that I’m in limbo, career-wise, but starting to worry that I’m getting too old to be without a definite plan.

But besides all the philosophy regarding the yearly changing of ages, I’m looking forward to 29. And 2007. It just might be the year I figure it all out. And if not, it will, by definition, be my last year as a twenty-something, and I’m pretty sure that’s going to come in handy as an excuse for any number of situations.

J and I are taking the night to clean up our house, which has become somewhat of a disaster in the past few weeks. A great disaster though. A disaster where every abandoned box and bag you find on the ground contains a forgotten treasure. That striped button down shirt! The first season of “The Dog Whisperer” on DVD! Cucumber melon shower gel! A Starbucks gift card! The entire works of Shakespeare contained in 25 illustrated volumes! (My dad, that one was my dad)

Seriously, our families gave us a wonderful Christmas, and travelling to both Connecticut and DC meant our Christmas was not merely a day, but several days. Days that we got to spend lounging with our loved ones, giving and receiving, laughing and eating and playing with Mina.

In between Christmas and New Years, we opted to come back to Chapel Hill. Despite the fact that I end up driving up and down the east coast what seems like a gagillion times around the holiday season every year, saying “I’m not doing this next Christmas,” well, I end up doing it the next Christmas. This year we figured we both could work during those quiet, almost eerie days, between Jesus’s birth and the huge party that is New Years Eve. And we both got a lot done, as well as enjoyed the unpopulated town’s perks - eating out, going to a bar with friends - and never having to look too hard for an excellent parking space.

The result, however, was that by the time this past weekend arrived, I felt like I’d been running some sort of crazy marathon. Like I was seeing my life in fast forward. That I’d been acting in a way I don’t normally act since the beginning of December. Dropping my bag and coat on the floor upon arriving home. Off to the store to get presents or party supplies. Spending way more money than usual. Eating whatever I wanted all the time and never bothering to work out. Turning the lights out without my normal, much loved reading time. Sleeping as much as possible, but not much. Packing up my belongings again. Getting on the road.

I know I’m not the only one who feels this way around this time of year, and don’t get me wrong, it’s not even that I don’t like it. I mean, it’s kind of what makes the season awesome, you know? If you sit down to a big Christmas dinner with a great bottle of wine and all these wonderful people and you don’t feel an immediate surge of relief because - damnit, you made it! You did all the stuff and you made it to Christmas! - well, it’s just not as fun, is it?

Plus, I’m not complaining. I can’t complain. I’m pretty sure J and I are the luckiest people on Earth. In fact, I’m positive we are. I mean, the presents for instance, like the fact that we now own a copy of “Mean Girls” and can watch it whenever we want. But also because people love us and stuff like that.

All the travelling and lack of down time also made me very excited for New Years Eve, perhaps even more excited than usual, which is really something because New Years is my favorite of the more minor holidays. I’m not really sure what I mean by that, except that I mean that I like New Years better than the Fourth of July, for instance, but not better than Christmas, of course, because I’m pretty sure that would be sacrilegious.

My brother and I, who planned a party out at my parent’s house, on the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay, spent a fair amount of time worrying if enough people would attend this year’s party to make it a success. The fear exists because of this party we threw for New Years 2004, this party people still talk about, where about 20 million people showed up and almost set the house on fire, but luckily didn’t. It’s hard to bounce back from that. Not that I want to ever have a party exactly like that again, I mean, I’m almost 29 for Christ’s sake, but, you know, I do want our reputation for throwing decent parties to stay intact.

Turns out we didn’t need to worry, because a lot of our very cool friends showed up, and many brought their friends and all together it was an incredibly fun group - a group that didn’t mind when Adam Ant’s hit “Goody Two Shoes” was played about 20 times - they just screamed like they’d never been blessed with such fortune and danced…and danced.

And now, the quiet. I almost felt a little sad tonight. A little like I did after J and I got back from our honeymoon, to our cozy house and I realized the planning and stress and yes, the raucous group dancing, was over for a while and I felt, I don’t know - I guess just a little down. That feeling never lasts for long though - and not only because you realize you have time to take a long bath, catch up on all your magazines, and that makes you very, very happy - but because the quiet, literally, never lasts for long. There’s always some new adventure around the corner, and I have no doubt 2007 will bring many.

A few highlights of Christmas and New Years below, including one of my brother standing with my father, who was dressed in an authentic Ethiopian outfit all day Christmas Day. What? What’s that? You want to know why my father, who is white and born of Italian parents, dressed in an Ethiopian outfit on Christmas Day? An interesting, and valid question. And my guess is probably as good as yours.

Also, you can see my all New Years pictures here, and Jed’s pictures (which are much better than mine) here.

After a whirlwind of car trips and late nights and serious as well as ridiculous conversations with friends, after opening so many presents and eating lots of junk food bought at gas stations on our way to wherever, after gossiping with my mother and grandmother and mother in law and sisters in law and general quality time with all the family and, of course, finally, throwing a big party and dancing all night, counting down to midnight and toasting the new year with a crowded room full of excited people, we are back and I am tired. I am very tired. But tomorrow I’ll tell you all about it. After some coffee. And after maybe playing with all my new Christmas gifts. And after a nice, long hot shower and then maybe I’ll take one more tiny nap and then I’ll be ready. I’ll be ready to tell you all about it, and to attack this new year with vigor and attitude, like the attitude that I won’t eat 12 pieces of chocolate for an “afternoon snack to tide me over until dinner” tomorrow like I did today because tomorrow is January 3rd, and that’s the day the resolutions really start after all, I mean, January 1st and 2nd are, like, totally a grace period.