I'll take your guesses in the comment section as to how old you think I am in this picture. It might be hard for you because, basically, I look EXACTLY THE SAME NOW, minus the ruffled denim ensemble.
I keep trying to figure out glib ways to put this but none of them strikes the right tone so I'll just play it straight here and say
Today is my 30th birthday.
It feels very, very weird to write that. Which is odd because I've been building up to this day all year, basically robbing myself of being 29. Whenever anyone would ask me how old I am I would say, "Almost 30". I mean, since last May. Waaay premature. So it turns out that this birthday gives me pause, as many people said it would. I have some notions as to why--things like a newly-simmering feeling of panic at not having some sort of retirement fund in place, still feeling intimidated when I don't know anyone in a room, or the fact that I still adore watching Transformers cartoons and running through sprinklers. Somehow along the way I've developed an idea of how 30 is supposed to feel, and now having arrived at this birthday with a zero in it, I don't feel "that" way and so come away thinking I must be doing something wrong. Which is of course total shite; I can think of 30 different 30-year-olds who are all living drastically different but equally excellent lives. I guess I thought at this age I'd have more answers, more of the details in place. Come to find out that basically no one ever has all the details in place. I think the lesson here is that I watched waaaaay too many movies as a child and going forward my progeny have a very Amish-like existence awaiting them. The DVR in Mommy and Daddy's room will be OFF LIMITS until you're 18. But you can sip from our beers as soon as you're old enough to hold the can!!
In the past I've told you about the day I was born and great birthday cakes from parties past. Today I'll just give a quick but cute anecdote:
When I was very little we lived near a lot of extended family. I had no end of willing baby sitters and teenagers who loved to treat me like a living doll. Apparently in the lead up to my 2nd birthday someone among that coterie taught me, when asked how old I was, to answer "Two in April!" Which, like the good monkey I was, I did. It was my party trick for quite awhile, so much so that to this day, when greeted by a certain aunt and certain cousins, I'm not addressed by my Christian name; they call me Two in April. It's my Indian name. Cherokee Pride!
There's a party tonight, with cake and a DJ and most likely many, many pictures. If you're here come on out; if you can't make it I miss you and stay tuned.
posted by ADD @ 05:53
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