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Thirty years ago today, a doctor opened up the tummy of a very pretty, hazel eyed, long, wavy blonde haired hippy lady in Redmond, OR. And out I came, cesarian.  If that was any indication as to how stubborn I was going to be, my mother would have left me at the hospital right then and there. I remember the story well. It was a cold, crisp, clear Central Oregon morning and the fields were covered in frost. If you've spent any time in that region, you can probably feel the rush of that dry mountain air whipping through your nostrils and down into your lungs. It's clean and cool and refreshing and the sun feels warm and sincere on your skin, even as winter approaches. I like imagining my parents feeling that on the day of my birth. Under blue skies and over the cracked, worn, twisting backroads of Tumalo, my mother and father (rip) rushed to the hospital, anticipating the birth of their first (and only) child. I can only imagine what they must have been feeling. Bringing a child into the world is a major decision. For my sake, I'm glad they decided to do it, but the anticipation, the excitement, the fear, the unknowns, must  have been overwhelming. However, there wasn't a lot for them to do at that point besides let the doc and his crew take over. A few hours later, at 2:50pm on November 13th, 1980, I took my first inhalation of that high desert air. Thirty years later I still love it. Whenever I go back to Bend, the air alone makes me feel at home. Thirty years later my mom is still very pretty, still hazel eyed, still wavy and blonde, but the furthest thing from a hippy. Which, truth be told, is probably a good thing. Thirty years later, I have two fathers.  One is brilliant and supportive and loves my mom -- and me -- more than life itself. The other father had many positive qualities of his own, but now looks over me from the heavens, gliding on the perfect waves that can only be ridden on the other side. Thirty years later I have found the love of my life. Megan is my best friend, my confidant and my biggest fan. She supports my passions and my dreams and encourages me to follow my vision. She has given me her heart and soul and it feels amazing giving mine back to her. She is drop dead gorgeous, but even more beautiful than her bright blue eyes, dazzling white smile and stunning physique, is her heart. I've never had the pleasure of knowing somebody so genuinely concerned for the feelings of others. Megan lives by the golden rule and is the perfect example of a flawless friend. Our future is bright. Thirty years later, my friends are just as much my family and over the last three decades I have acquired some unbelievable comrades. I think about my wedding day and who I will ask to stand there with me, by my side, supporting and encouraging my decision. My brother, Mike, is a no brainer; family is family. But what about the rest? How do you choose 4-5 guys that are your "best friends" when you have a lot of 'em. Can you have 20+ groomsmen? That's a ways off. I'll cross that bridge when I'm standing before it. As for now, I'm shocked that if I doubled the amount of time I've been wandering the earth, I would be 60 years old. Once I live as long as I've just lived today, I'll be 60 years old. Ha. That is just...ridiculous. Life is too short people. Plain and simple, life is too short. So, here's to a few more laughs, a few more waves, a few more photos and a few more decades of health, happiness and pursuing the dream. As they say, carpe diem. I love you all. Aloha.