I had a good time in Boston last week. It's a great city - pretty easy to get around and lots to do. I spent time at the Museum of Fine Arts, and all around Beacon Hill. I did a little shopping and ate great Mexican food at Fajitas & 'Ritas. I also did a city tour and walked that freaking long Freedom Trail. A few pics here.
I was in Boston for a class about giving effective presentations. I signed up because I knew it would be out of my comfort zone, and it was. Argh, it's hard - but extremely important - to do something that makes me uncomfortable. I really noticed my age on this trip - it's so strange to be aware of getting older. I ate dinner with a colleague and we talked about the latest work dramas. I was specifically aware of how he has so much more energy than I have, despite us being close in age (assumption). Later in the evening he mentioned that he's 26. TWENTY-SIX! Does 26 even exist anymore? That was eleven years ago for me. I'm glad I'm not that age anymore - the real secret is that it just keeps getting better and better, isn't it? But there is something strange that goes on where I picture myself a certain age, it's always mid-twenties, and I just don't get older in my mind. That is, until my back hurts, or the music is too loud, or I'm traveling in a great, new city and after a while I just want my own bed.