Okay, I’ll admit it. There’s a blogger whose posts I have really started to look forward to finding in my inbox (aside from Ben Naga’s poetry). I usually check my email in the morning from my phone before unleashing the hounds of hell (aka the Yorkshire Terrors) and dealing with them for the first half hour of my day. I realized this morning it actually is a good thing that I’m too lazy to fool with writing a well thought-out comment only to then have to log in to WordPress. Otherwise, I’d probably have something to say about every single post, and it would go something like this: “Wow! You read my mind!” “Yes! I remember that!” “Holy cow! I know exactly what you mean!”
I wouldn’t want that to be misconstrued. I’m not a weirdo, you know.
Her blog is called 40 is the new 13, which alone cracks me up. By a 13 year old’s standards, she’s ancient. She’s apparently 43. I’m only 42. Her ode to the turkey wattle that appears on middle-aged necks when we aren’t looking (and without permission, I might add) is, well, it’s just the best thing ever. Which reminds me, I’d like to know who decided hitting our 40s makes us middle-aged? I’m not middle-aged. I’m cool. I can still rock with the best of them. I’m still pretty rad. Totally awesome. Middle-age? Pfft. Gag me with a spoon! Oh… I get it. Never mind.
This morning there was a post comparing Mitt Romney with Holden Caulfield. Sheer genius.
I have no idea how or why anyone gets Freshly Pressed at WordPress. I saw someone show up there after writing his (her?) very first blog post about starting a blog. The one we all write because we don’t know what we want to say, we only know we want to say it. It’s been over a year for me and nothing. Zippo, zilch, zero, nada. Which, honestly, isn’t the reason I write. But 40 is the new 13 was Freshly Pressed, and I just happened to click over to FP when I meant to click something entirely different. A deliriously happy accident.
Seriously, this blog is one of the best I’ve read in a while. She’s funny, her perspective is fresh and easy to connect with, and she’s a damn good writer. Check it out.
Oh, and if she’s reading this, don’t be creeped out. I’m not a weirdo. I swear.