I'm turning 28 in a month, it's rainy and cold and I'm a horrible coward. Yesterday J and I sat in our seats on the airplane, coming back from Connecticut again, just having made the flight after driving to Hartford from Orange in a snowstorm. We had to wait for what seemed like an eternity while men with hoses sprayed pink antifreeze solution over the craft, melting the snow and ice and making it safe for us to fly. As I never think it's safe to fly, due to my slight but not crippling fear of the whole process, this was quite troubling for me. Especially when my man, my strong husband said, "Don't they have to get rid of the snow? Won't it freeze when we get up to a high altitude?" and I explained, "Listen, you've got to be strong for me. When we are on airplanes, you cannot question the flight staff, you cannot be worried, because I cannot handle it." Luckily, they sprayed the snow off no problem and we enjoyed (others enjoyed, I prayed) a very nice flight home. When we'd flown up a few days before the air out of North Carolina had been particularly choppy and thus, the flight rather turbulent, but just on the way up to cruising altitude, which happens to be my least favorite part. When we landed, J overheard two women - a mother and daughter it appeared - tell a Southwest crew member that it had been their first flight. She, naturally, responded, "Well, it was a little bumpy on the way up," and they replied that it hadn't been bad at all. "Are you kidding me?" I asked J as he recounted the tale. "That was really bad. Worst ever."

It wasn't the worst ever. Also - flying isn't scary. And furthermore, I think I'd better buck up and become an awesome almost-28-year-old. How, you ask? Well, young brother Vinnie and I were having a typical philosophical conversation regarding LIFE on the internet yesterday and he said, nearly word for word that he was sick "of life taking the reins for purposes for evil," in answer to my comment that "I need to stop letting life take control of me instead of the other way around."

Example: My pants are really tight.

Example: My car is really messy.

Example: Sometimes I watch three episodes of "Six Feet Under" in a row and fall asleep and then get upset that I paid the bills late. Again.

Example: Every once in a while, Mina pees on the floor.

And then there are the bigger examples, examples I won't get into here, but examples concerning my potential and the big old "what next?" question.

So I did what any rational person in this position would do. I got excited. About holiday parties and the fact that we don't have any stressful traveling to do for a while. I planned a big night out with friends while maintaining a productive Monday. I bought Roxy Music's album "Avalon."

Don't make fun of me. A little early eighties emotional music never did anyone wrong. That's possibly not true, but for me, driving along the empty roads (North Carolinians choose to keep at home when it's rainy and even approaching anywhere under 40 degrees) listening to "More than This" was like succumbing to a sweet fantasy. The fantasy in which I finally bought the album "Avalon" and am not afraid to admit it. The fantasy in which I drift peacefully, but also joyfully, wildly, into my 28th year, listening to good albums and celebrating the holiday season with family and friends, and keeping an eye on the huge, philosophical picture, like that the two first-timers on the airplane had it right, but also, that I'm allowed my weaknesses, and that hopefully they'll be forcefully overcome by my strengths.