Monday, May 21, 2012

42 Birthday Part 1/5


A couple years ago, my wife pointed out that I get depressed around my birthday.  I hadn’t noticed it myself, but I had to admit she was right because, every year, she’d notice me wallowing in a pool of my own tears.
“Oh, your birthday's coming soon, isn’t it?”
It’s not that I was depressed about getting older.  Really, who gives a crap except for the vain?  It’s more the fact that I haven’t really accomplished anything yet that bothers me.  I’m not sure why I care, but it seems I do. 

Of course, if some kind reader were to erect a statue to me, that would probably solve the problem.
I already got started.
To combat my moroseness (is that a word?) I started doing wacky things on my birthday.  Two years ago, I took a glass blowing class and dyed my hair blue.

The year after that, I jumped out of a plane. 

This year, I didn’t have anything really big planned.  Instead, I set up a whole bunch of smaller things over half a week.  I’m going to cover one thing each day this week.  Today: my actual birthday.

On May 16, 1970, I was popped out into this world through the magic of labor-inducing chemicals.  Forty two years later I celebrated the event on the exact day of my birthday in three ways:

One: by having a freaking huge cake from Costco.
Okay, not that huge.
Two: I opened presents from my wife and kids.  My wife got me a funny shirt, a new towel (long story) and some edible flowers to put in drinks.  My eldest wrote me this letter (and may now flunk out of school, end up in prison, and set fire to an orphanage; as far as I’m concerned, he’s perfect).  My youngest, feeling left out, dumped all the coins out of his toy cash register, put them into a box, and taped it shut for me.  I’m working on getting him to repeat that trick with 20 dollar bills.

Third: I had Indian food.  It’s been years since I was allowed to eat Indian food, because my wife noticed a certain gastric side-effect associated with my eating it.  For my birthday, she knuckled under and let me have some. 
She regretted it the next day.
Sound pretty dull and traditional?  Maybe, but that was just the beginning.  Things got more interesting the next day.

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