And now, the reason for the title of this dispatch: Today I am 35.

Now I’m normally not one to remark much on the passing of years, unless the number has some particularly interesting numerological aspect (which 35 doesn’t, really. 5×7? Gotta do better than that, suggestions are welcome).

However, today does have a kind of cosmic vibe to it: I’ve known since I could count that in the year 2000 I’d be 35. When you’re 10 this seems pretty far off. (So *OLD*! I thought. In the *future* I thought.)

But 10 years ago to the day I sat outside in the sun and thought to myself, “10 years from now it’ll be the year 2000 and I’ll be 35. What is it going to be like?” I even had a crystal ball list:

– I’d feel the same at 35 as I do at 25: Check. – I’d be married: Check – but I hadn’t met her yet: Check – Walter and I would have finished our music album project: no check. Still working on it.

I didn’t even have a checklist item for where in the world I’d be living, but I wouldn’t have figured on California if I’d even thought about it.

I think I’d become a realist enough to know that if Big Brother seemed unlikely and pessimistic in 1990, that by 2000 we still wouldn’t have flying cars, and probably no prospect for a planned manned Jupiter mission next year either. No suprises there.

And so, here I am. Living in California with a wonderful woman and two step kids who seem to have adopted me into their lives with remarkable willingness. This is despite not being around for most of their lives, I feel I don’t really deserve it, but anyway I’m watching them grow up into independent people with lives of their own, and I’m grateful to be here.

Hmm. Now that I’ve arrived here, I can tear a hole in the fabric of space-time and tell the earlier version of me that it’s ok, mostly everything works out ok, and I’ll see him when he gets here.

It’s time for me to sit out in the backyard with a drink and think about what life will be like in 2010.