Tribute to 24 years
I don't know totally yet what it's like to be 25, as I've only been 25 for about 11 hours now. I do know about my previous 24 years, though.

My earliest memory is of tying my shoes for the first time. No, you nerds, that wasn't last week. I don't remember how old I was, but I was pretty young.

I remember my dad teaching me how to ride my bike. The bike was this old blue banana seat thing. This one time right after I got the training wheels off, my ride was jogging along next to me while holding the back of the seat. I was pedaling along and he let me go. I ended up in a big ditch, crying and covered in mud. My dad felt bad, but I know he was also holding back the laughs.

I remember having to move every four years because my dad was in the Air Force. We moved from Ohio to Las Vegas when I was going into third grade.

I remember one time in third grade out in Vegas, it snowed. The teachers let us out of class to see the flakes because it snowed so rarely there. I remember thinking that it was nothing compared to what we got back in Ohio.

In Vegas, I remember big dust storms, wandering around in the desert catching lizards with my friends, swimming in our pool in the back yard, and going to three different elementary schools in four years because the area was so over-crowded.

I remember in third grade when the blackboard got blurry one day and I had to sit closer to see. The next week I had glasses.

I remember a trip to Mt. Zion National Park in Utah with my friend Carson and his family.

I remember my brother throwing me around the front yard while yelling, "Supergirl!"

I remember all the neighbors gathering together in the cul-de-sac for illegal 4th of July fireworks from California.

All of my report cards came in with good grades on them, and the majority also had notes from my teachers that all said something like this:

"H is very smart, she just has a tendency to talk too much during class."

One day in the 6th grade, the music teacher came around to the classrooms with all kinds of different looking instruments. It was our day to pick out what we wanted to play should we want to join the band class. My first thought was trumpet, but then I saw that everyone else was choosing that. Then I thought about the drums, but there weren't enough drums to go around, so some of the drummer kids had to play these dumb little drum pads. Then I saw the alto saxophone. Decision made.

I remember being the tomboy, being chosen first by the boys for anything sports-related. Then in fifth grade the boys didn't want to hang out with me much any more. I didn't understand until later.

Then we moved back to Ohio. I entered the 7th grade. I don't remember how we met, but that's the year I met one of my bestest friends to this day, Ashley.

I remember getting braces.

I remember how math suddenly became really difficult. I remember asking boys out and being constantly rejected. I remember loving art class and English class and learning to despise math.

I remember how our band class in middle school made Mrs. Sherman cry, and not because we played so beautifully.

Then there was high school. I remember band camps, marching band, drama club. I learned Spanish from this hilarious Cuban woman. Mr. Sferro was the advanced placement English teacher who loved the girls in his classes. Eek.

I'm still trying to block out my first kiss.

There were sleep-overs where we prank called the question hotline on the Tampax box.

I remember getting my braces off and switching to contacts instead of glasses.

I learned to drive a stick-shift. I was one point away from flunking my driver's license test because I was tested by the scariest DMV worker ever.

I backed into a car in my drive-way. I remember band trips to Disneyworld, where we'd get sunburnt, make lots of noise in our hotel rooms, and have to march in frickin' Florida in May while wearing our wool uniforms.

I remember my first true love who rejected me and didn't realize until about five years later when we met up in London and I told her. I remember the life-draining high school depression.

I remember my first job as a dishwasher/busser at the local restaurant.

Then there was college. I escaped to Ohio University and came out. I made lasting friends. I learned, got drunk, got threatened, fell in love, fell out of love, fell in love, fell out of love, learned to love and hate (but mostly love) wanted I wanted to do with my life.

I remember traveling to Venezuela and Cuba, meeting the woman of my dreams, studying abroad in Scotland, and learning to hate college during my last two quarters there.

I escaped to Maryland, then to Boston, slaved away and learned about everything in AmeriCorps. I covered 9-11 as a fresh young journalist.

I learned how much unemployment sucked.

I got married.

I'm skipping lots, so don't take anything personally if you've not been part of this massive list. Many of the folks who read this page know me personally, so please add things I've missed to the comments below. I'll probably add more as the day goes by.

Thanks to you all who've watched and help me get where where I am.