Today is my birthday. I am 27 years old.
When I was born, on a rather rainy afternoon in New Orleans, my mother tells me that I was already 10 days late and the doctor actually told her at one point that I had just gone to sleep for a while. I like to think that I just wasn't cooked yet and I wasn't coming out till I was good and ready.
It is also Sam's and my four-year anniversary. I acquired Sammy the big silly Lab for my 23rd birthday. He was much smaller then, and I could still pick him up. This did not last long. Now Sammy is four, weighs about 90lbs (after the diet we put him on this winter), and still looks funny when he runs. He's my heart.
Today was also the opening day of Red Sox season and, in their honor, I am sporting my new Red Sox hat with a nice red 'B' on the front. Ruth Ann says that B stands for Birthday Girl. My mom says that I shouldn't have to go to school on my birthday and I totally agree, but the Provost from NEC said he really didn't care. I asked. The Red Sox got their asses handed to them.
I don't mind being in my 'late twenties.' It seems a lot more respectable than being in my 'early twenties' and I feel that with every passing year, the likelihood that I will make an ass out of myself in public diminishes. The large exception to this idea has to do with costume malfunctions and personal fears of tripping and going headfirst into an orchestra pit, landing on someone's terribly expensive violin, but it hasn't happened yet so knock on wood.
My ten year reunion for high school is in about six weeks. I am not going. You might think it's because I'm not emotionally ready to see 'those people' or because I'm avoiding some sort of long-standing conflict that I'm still not prepared to deal with, but the simple truth is that I have a job and a competition and leaving to go home doesn't really fit into those plans. Husband and I are going to Seattle in June to look for an apartment and I don't think it would be right for me to just to take off and go to Natchitoches for a weekend, much as I would love to have a meat pie. Mmmm, meat pies. All the other emotional crap is probably true, but just the same, I'm sure that whatever baggage from high school I'm still carrying will get dropped by the 20 year reunion.
In the meantime, I'm going to spend the last 33 minutes of my birthday taking a hot shower and eating a birthday cupcake. Life's too short to not eat cupcakes, especially when your husband made the icing from scratch!
2 comments:
When did your spousal unit turn 30? Were you around for it? I hyperventilated when NH turned 30 and he does not even do birthdays. He already acts like a little paw paw. 27 and 28 sucked because NH was turning 30 and all I could picture were nursing homes.
I totally can't see you in a baseball cap.
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