I think I know why most of my posts of late have been so unbearably heavy.
Today is my birthday.
I guess today is no different from the others. It's sort of a non-birthday, if you ask me. I mean, 34 is nothing to get excited about. Except for the fact that I am now officially in my mid-30's. Somehow that milestone doesn't compare to the day that I could finally walk into a bar and order a fuzzy navel or a sex on the beach or whatever horrible concoction I was drinking when I turned 21. It's not a turning point, like leaving your 20s behind. No special privileges will be granted to me, as I have already reached the age where I can vote, buy a pack of cigarettes (if I smoked, that is), enroll in the armed forces and drive a car. What else is there to look forward to?
Come on AARP membership card!
Ooh, how about qualifying for the early bird special discount? Or getting into the movies for half price? Good times ahead, I'm telling you.
I'm not feeling melancholy because I'm turning 34. I mean, 34 is young. I'm in the prime of my life. I'm melancholy for the simple fact that it's my birthday. I'm always a little blue on the day that I should be celebrating my birth. I have no idea why. The days leading up to my birthday, either because they coincide with the change of the seasons, the first days of school, or the beginning of another disappointing fall television line-up have always put me in a deep blue funk for as long as I can remember.
But I'm done being woebegone. Today is my birthday, dammit. Already this morning, as every other one of my birthdays for the past decade has started, I received a phone call from my Nana. After hearing me say "Hello" she doesn't utter a word herself (a huge feat, if you knew my Nana you'd know how hard that was for her) and after a second instead of her voice I hear the metallic notes of the Happy Birthday song coming through the phone. The origin of the sound? A novelty singing birthday candle that she pulls out for every one of my sister's and my birthdays.
How can you have a bad day when the first phone call you receive is your grandmother and her amazing singing birthday candle?
While Chicky Baby is napping, I'll be putting together the kickass gift that Mr. C gave me last night.
And in case you're wondering why I got my birthday present the day before my birthday... The man can't wait to give gifts. If it were up to him we wouldn't open our Christmas gifts on Christmas Day, or even Christmas Eve, but on the eve of Christmas Eve. It's sweet, really, but it sometimes makes the actual day a little anti-climactic. Although, in this case I'm glad I gave in and opened the gift. For those of you in Michigan wondering who the hell is playing the loud music, that would be me, blasting the new John Mayer album. But it will be "vibrant, detailed sound that will revolutionize the way (I) experience (my) iPod." It's the best gift ever. I bet it will even make Raffi sound good. Or I may be going a bit far with that.
But I digress.
I think I'll take my birthday money and go by a pair of shoes or maybe two pairs of shoes. It is my birthday. And tonight, Mr. C will probably make me dinner (or at least bring home good takeout) and we'll share a good bottle of wine. My birthday will be a quiet affair, just the two of us after our daughter goes to sleep.
Well, not too quiet. After Chicky Baby goes to bed, and the dogs are put away for the night, and we've shared our lovely meal and wine and maybe something chocolate, you will hear coming from my house...
Crystal clear Bose quality sound.
What did you think I was going to say? It's my birthday, not his.