Jennifer Anne Kogler

Yes, it was my birthday a few days ago. No, this blog is not intended to guilt those of you who did not bid me happy birthday to send me a ‘make-up’ gift (cough, mom). No, I won’t stop you if you really really want to. No, I won’t tell you how old I am.

Speaking of how old I am, is age 24 mid-twenties? I’m hoping not, but the way I figure it, 24 has to be. So say, hypothetically speaking, I was 24. Say, hypothetically of course, I wrote that I was in my “early twenties” say on my match.com profile, would I be lying? Or is it up to interpretation? Mid-twenties sounds so ancient. I know my mother is rolling her eyes right now. But I think once you hit 21, every birthday is a reminder of how young you used to be. And I know that someday, perhaps soon, I’ll think about how young I was when I was in my mid-twenties. It’s of little solace.

My favorite redhead said the following about age:

The secret of staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age.

Ahh Lucy. I love you. I think I’m going to follow your advice.

So, what did I do for my birthday? I’ll give you one guess.

Good guess. I went to Petco Park in San Diego and saw the Dodgers stink it up against the Padres. While there, I took this picture. That’s a Dodger you see standing on first base. I took a picture of it because I felt like seeing a Dodger on base is a rarity this season. And I take pictures of all things rare. Like uncooked meat.

Oh boy. I’m afraid my depression over my age has beaten the sense out of my humor. So I’ll leave you until next Monday where I’ll discuss the pros and cons of MySpace.

Go Dodgers,
Jennie