So I was sitting in my local coffeeshop today, scrolling through the Facebook and the Tumblr and trying to arse myself to write the next chapter in This Thing I'm...
july, july, july (never seemed so strange)
So yesterday my boss asked me how old I would be turning today and I said 36. She seemed honestly surprised, so I said yeah that's because I'm so freakin' immature.
I waited patiently for her to say no no no you are wicked mature!
And waited.
She finally responded that maybe THIS year will be the year I finally grow up. And start acting my age.
I am her best and favorite employee! She was only mostly kidding.
So yeah! Thirty-six! Which seems a lot older and perhaps a trifle less saucy than 35! But whatever -- happy to have made it this far!
For the first time in my life, I am a little bit put out by the timing of my birthday. I have always loved that it fell on a national holiday -- the fact that it is France's national holiday only serves to convince me that I am destined to one day spend my birthday in Paris.
When I was a kid growing up on the Cape, I developed a mild resentment that I didn't get the same attention the other kids did on their birthdays -- in the lower grades when we would actually celebrate each little munchkin's birthday with cupcakes and a rousing game of 7-Up (which I can remember LOVING, even though I can't remember how it was played -- something about putting your heads down on your desk, and one kid up at the blackboard... doing... something? I don't know, but I just managed to make it sound pretty sinister, didn't I? Awesome!).
I always figured I got my revenge by having a summertime birthday because that meant I could always have a beach party, always have strawberry shortcake with fresh strawberries, and always celebrate my birthday with my summertime friends at the children's theater, all of whom I liked far far better than anybody at stupid school anyway.
But now I find myself with a job whose main feature is working like a dog in the summer in preparation for a huge event, and the crunch time happens to fall right on my birthday. And I LOVE my job, I love this intense time of year, I love the payoff that comes from having carried it all off without a (visible) hitch, and the relaxation that I am then justly entitled to come September.
But as a result I find myself kind of swatting away my birthday with impatience, wishing I could reschedule it for after Labor Day like everything else. In fact, I also have a pretty major anniversary that falls every year ON THE DAY of the big work-related annual event, and I DO reschedule the celebration of that every year to a more convenient date about a week or two later.
It's a good thing I don't have kids.
I do so love my job.
And this busy time is only for a couple of badly placed months!
But luckily I have friends and family who won't let me get away with this nonsense, making my birthday weekend quite as jam-packed as if I had to work after all. Starting today, I am going out to:
- lunch with Dad
- dinner with Saucy
- dinner with husband
- a baseball game with the boss who thinks I am immature (not really).
Sigh. If I must, I must!