24? Not so old.

I'm almost to my last great "hurrah" before starting my climb up the hill. At 16 I finally got to drive (even if I was driving the late BP which stalled at traffic lights), and at 18 I could buy cigarettes, except I didn't because I could fulfill my civic duty of voting and that seemed more appealing. Then, there was 21 and JR got me so drunk that I picked a bum up off the street on our way to the bar and then I threw up out JR's car window. And the last great "hurrah"? I can rent a car without vastly inflated insurance costs. But really, it was a good birthday-- spending time with Rowan, sharing a lovely dinner with my family (minus JR, truly unfortunate), and a quiet evening chatting with AVH was just about fulfilling enough.

The night before my big day, Little L and I went out in search for a place where we could do some serious booty shakin'. There's nothing quite like waking up the morning after shaking your booty only to find that your abs are sore. Brilliant. It's always nice to get out, have a few drinks and dance.

The last few days have been tiring. Packing is a pain and the fact that I simply had to start my South African scrapbook last week is potentially even more of a pain-- I'm losing momentum on both. Likewise, I've been more social with friends this past week than I have been the entire summer; unfortunately that bubble must burst because there's a horse show this weekend and then I'm departing.

Speaking of my departure the trip is painful but possible. Sunday it's my town to the Nati (4 hours), Monday is the Nati to Nashville (5 hours), Tuesday is Nashville to St. Augustine (a really, really long time), and Wednesday I arrive before my little Rowan does, and then vacation officially ends.

Eish?