I like birthdays. Really, I do. There’s chocolate and cake and presents and a party with the people you care about and even more chocolate. And when we’re being honest, aging. I like all these things.
Yes, I just publicly said I like aging. Just as many have noted before, aging beats the alternative. So I don’t mind getting older. Yes, I wish aging wasn’t so noisy when bending down and such things, but I don’t mind the changing hair color and crow’s feet. Because at least I have hair, right? Again, it beats the alternative.
And when birthdays come around, I love having parties and seeing the folks I got to have another 365 days to cherish. Because if I’m being truthful, that is what a birthday celebration is actually for — celebrating the opportunity to have had all those days with the people who matter to you. Not what might be given to you in a box with a pretty bow on top.
There are many, many things that I just never fully appreciated as a child. Coffee, chocolate and sexy undies would all make the rather long list of things flying below my childhood radar. No, I wasn’t running around commando as a wee one. (Well, I actually did a few times, but that’s for another post.) After all, it was the 1970s. We were all sporting practical cotton briefs in neutral colors versus anything remotely attractive — unless you find the days of the week remarkably cute. But the aging process is all about finding new perspective. And things in your closets and cupboards you never thought you would back when you thought 35 was “over the hill” and stretch marks would never happen to you.
As a kid, my mom would always get us a chocolate Easter bunny for our baskets. And, as a kid, I would eat the ears off my bunny and then decide I would save it for later. (I apparently have hoarder tendencies.) This went on for years. YEARS people. To the extent that one fine day during my adolescence my mom agreed to keep me company while I reorganized my closet. We stood there in front of a long line of long and short sleeves mixed together with wild abandonment and suddenly I hear something a bit like this:
In addition to this weekend’s Easter festivities, we also celebrated my sister-in-law’s birthday. (I shall not mention how many candles were present. Because, really, that isn’t the important part of a birthday – it’s the celebration part that matters!) And since I don’t do things half-way (never one to be in the midst of the bell curve), I decided I would make something yummy for her birthday. Yes, I could just pick up something from the store, but that would be too average. And that’s not where I fall on the bell curve.
I think it might be best for all parties if I explain that bell curve statement.
I am a fan of quotations. Here is one in honor of Abraham Lincoln on the 201st anniversary of his birth:
“Whatever you are, be a good one.”