Last week, May or May Not turned the big 2-8. This is getting alarmingly close t0 30. Perhaps even more scary is the fact that I often have trouble remembering how old I actually am. I generally have to round. It may be that I am the first twenty-something to join the old folks home.
As usual, since I am a Thanksgiving baby, my birthday is more of a birthday Hanukkah, an 8 day festival. It was kicked off with a bang at the IU/Purdue game, when my great uncle interrupted the birthday cake to talk about his new "companion" and how they were taking a cruise, but NOT, I repeat, NOT getting married. Ick.
Fast forward to my actual birthday when the Grinch Stole Christmas. I've been working my tail off on this holiday give away for the homeless and this lady called and said we should cancel. So I spent the big day making sure this did not happen. It diminished the birthday cheer quite a bit.
However, to make it up to myself, I just changed my birthday celebrations to the next day, which I had off. My faux-birthday was spent lunching with the girls, getting pedis and generally being totally indulgent. Much better.
I've decided that, in the spirit of the Mad Hatter, I may just throw myself birthdays at whim. Perhaps every 16th Tuesday or 400th Wednesday. Why the heck not?
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