The Fine Art of Duck and Cover

I am quickly approaching my 42nd birthday which means two things:  I was born in 1968 and come next October, be listening for the sirens.  And not because I am trotting out that old euphemism about candles and hot firemen.  Nope, I plan on my birthday parties to be worthy of police responses…someday.  I figure that by the time I hit my 90s, I will have earned the right to disturb the peace a bit with some good ole wild celebrating.  Because birthdays are a big deal.  And because, sometimes, for a just a bit, I do enjoy being the center of attention.

But sometimes, I would just as soon have everybody overlook little ole me.  I guess the difference is if they come peering at me with a gift-wrapped prezzie in their hands.

Because as much as it may surprise some of you to hear this, even extroverts who regularily take the stage can get a bit freaked out over being the center of attention.  Sometimes, everybody looking at you just makes you want to take a cue from Bert the Turtle and do some serious “duck and cover”.  (Anybody else old enough to have done the whole “nuclear holocaust” drills as a kid?  Oy.  Nothing like that little brand of fun to make a kid grow up maladjusted and more than just a wee bit jumpy around loud noises.)

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