When I was a senior in high school, my adored English teacher took me to the Bread Loaf Young Writers' Conference in Middlebury, Vermont. I don't even really remember...
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!