Six Months to Go Before the Big 3-0

I feel silly for worrying, for even thinking so much about it.

My 30th birthday is less than six months away.

January 15 was my half-birthday, and also the day in which a high school classmate turned 30 herself. It made me remember how I hated, how I absolutely detested, being among the youngest in my class. Everyone could drive, vote and eventually even drink (legally, at least) up to a whole year before I could.

The adults, with knowing smiles, told me that one day I'd be glad to be the youngest, and I guess that day has arrived.

I'm certainly not going through a quarterlife crisis, even if such a thing really existed. Mostly because I'm fairly certain my life is more than a quarter over. Maybe this is a one-third-life crisis?

But seriously, I know I'm not old. I'm not even really scared of getting old. I already have dreams of country-hopping in my retirement, and that sounds pretty good every Monday morning when I get ready for another week of work.

Most of my friends have entered their 30s, or they will very, very soon. My own husband has been there for more than two years already. Nothing is really going to change.

Yet here I am, giving myself a pep talk six months (and counting) before the big day.

A New York Blizzard ... Again

This is my fourth winter in New York City, and it has been the worst by far.

Paul and I missed the mother of all snowstorms on December 26, but the remnants remained on the ground when we returned from Ohio in January. They haven't left; they've only been added to.

The latest blizzard (and yes, it seems like we've gotten only blizzards and never just regular old snow) arrived Wednesday morning and continued off and on until early Thursday. When I walked home from the subway Wednesday evening, I even got pummeled with kosher salt-sized hail. By the time I woke up Thursday morning, the accumulation equaled 19 inches.

Someone got up early to clear off this sidewalk by 9 a.m.!

Paul didn't drive to work, of course -- not only were the roads in terrible condition, but a lot of the automobiles in the neighborhood were so completely covered that it looked as if the streets were lined with snowcars instead of snowmen. Only about half of the sidewalks were clear, and I frequently had to step into piles of snow just as high as my tall rubber boots.

The "fun" isn't over. More snow is predicted for today and Saturday. In addition, several inches of snow are piled atop the tree branches, and Paul has already been smacked in the head once by a cold, wet fluff of snow.

Spring is much too far away.

Paul draws a happy face on the front of a car.

Okonomiyaki: Finding Hiroshima in NYC

It had been 14 months since I'd eaten okonomiyaki, and I was craving it.

We were introduced to the dish during our vacation to Japan in 2009, and I ate it twice. The first time was in Kyoto, where I had what I later found out was Osaka-style okonomiyaki. Okonomiyaki is often described as a Japanese pancake, but the Osaka-style seems more like a Japanese omelet.

In the Hiroshima style, which I enjoyed much more, the ingredients are instead layered high atop cabbage and include noodles. It's delicious.

And, in New York, rare.

Okonomiyaki is served in several restaurants in New York, but from my internet research it seems to be almost exclusively the Osaka style. Finally I found Go Japanese Restaurant.

One of my best memories from the entire trip to Japan is when our friends Gail and Joe took us to an okonomiyaki restaurant they frequented in Hiroshima. The food was delicious, but half the fun was watching the cook combine the ingredients on the giant grill in front of you. No such luck here. A reviewer on Yelp said that way back when, Go was a "traditional Hiroshima okonomiyaki restaurant" with a "cook from Hiroshima who sat in the window and cooked on the spot." Now the okonomiyaki is at the bottom of the menu and cooked out of sight.

No matter. It was still tasty, even if I didn't get the show with my dinner. And, I'm proud to say, I ate the entire meal with chopsticks, no small feat since I'm pretty sure I still don't hold them correctly.

The meal was only $8.50 -- a terrific deal for such a large portion, especially in the student-and-tourist mecca of St. Marks Place in the East Village. I'll definitely be returning.