Nov 19

Being passionate

I used to know a family who had a retriever. They had a contraption on the deck to launch balls into the back yard. She would gladly chase a ball until her heart exploded. She was totally in love with chasing and retrieving a ball. It was her purpose in life.

I always wanted to have something like that.

There are things I love to do. A lot of things. Things with words. Things with singing. Things with yarn. Nothing that consumes me like that, though.

On second thought, I wake up to write at 4 am. Maybe I am wrong about not being passionate about anything. I wouldn’t write until my heart exploded though.

Perhaps that’s for the best.

Plus, if my heart was going to explode from writing, I’d want to have written something a whole lot better.

Nov 18

You know, sometimes things are really obvious

Here’s the thing:

What makes me love birthdays so much?
The people I celebrate them with.

It isn’t really about the date on the calendar, it’s that people are willing to play along and make me feel like I am important. For someone who has spent a lot of time feeling invisible, that is pretty major. That a lot of the people seem to really mean it?

Well.

It means more than I can say.

Paddy gave me a new song, reminded me of some old ones, and asked me to sing them with him.

Rick made sure I got from point B back to point A safely and kept my glass full for 3 days.

Chelle made snow angels with me.

Kelly reminded me of all the things I shouldn’t put on my junk and kept me laughing. He also made sure my glass stayed full.

Diane made sure I had a place to get people together and tolerated all of our shenanigans. She is a Goddess.

People played games with me, bought me drinks and dinner, drove me places, gave me hugs and presents and sent me spin cycles in huge boxes. All of my friends and family sent me texts and messages and posted on Facebook and generally made me feel like I am loved and valued.

And there is still more to come during the rest of the week and this weekend.

Why doesn’t everyone love birthdays?

Well, if everyone knew the same people I do…everyone would love every day.

You all are the best.

Nov 17

An imaginary conversation about birthdays

I fucking love birthdays.

Really? No one our age likes birthdays.

Are you saying I am nobody?

What? No! Just that you’re weird.

I am glad we got that cleared up.

Me too. So what is it you like about birthdays?

Everything.

Doesn’t it bother you that it means you’re getting older?

Why should that bother me?

It bothers most people. You know: aging, decrepitude, wrinkles, death, gray hair, illness…

Not in that order, usually.

No.

I’m not a big fan of wrinkles, gray hair and decrepitude. They don’t really bother me much though. Maybe because I have already committed the ultimate beauty sin of being fat.

Uh..

I am, you know.

Uh…

It’s OK. I am aware of it. I’m still cute, though. I think I have fewer wrinkles because of it.

That’s one way of looking at it.

Silver linings, baby, silver linings.

So what is it that makes you such a fan of birthdays?

Are you kidding?

No.

Well, for one thing, my Mom has to bake me a pie if I want one and I can pick any kind I want.

Pie is good.

It is. Also, I usually take time off work and do something fun like a short trip.

Vacations are good.

I know, right? I love vacations!

Anything else?

Of course–people buy me drinks and dinners.

A lot of people?

Quite a few. I am surprisingly popular in mid-November.

It isn’t all that surprising.

It is to me! Oh! And people send me cards, and texts and all kinds of Happy Birthday messages. It’s kind of nice to be the center of attention once a year.
And hugs. I get a lot of hugs.

You like hugs.

I do. I love hugs. And then there are presents. I love to get presents. They don’t even have to be big presents, I just love that people thought of me.

You say you love a lot of things.

Do I?

You do.

I guess I do. That’s good, right? It’s hard to be gloomy when you love everything.

You’re awfully upbeat for a cynic.

I still think most people suck. The ones I don’t love, not MY people. MY people are fantastic.

What else is so great about birthdays? I am still not convinced.

Seriously? Presents, trips, being the center of attention, lots of cards and messages and PIE are not enough to make you a birthday believer? Sometimes I even get to have tailgater birthdays. How can you not like birthdays???

No one bakes me a pie.

You just let me know what flavor.

Really?

Yes. You’ll see. Everything is good with pie.

Can I have whipped cream on it?

Of course. You can have whatever you want on your birthday. Has nobody ever explained this all to you before?

I guess not. I go to work. I go home. I get a few calls. Sometimes people buy me drinks.

See!? Drinks! How can you not like a day where people buy you drinks?

You have a point.

You just need to get over that “getting old” shit and start looking for excuses to celebrate everything.

When did you get so smart?

Haven’t I always been smart?

Yes, but not necessarily wise.

I’ve always been a wise ass.

Yes. That is very true.

Thanks. Let’s celebrate that.

You want to celebrate being a wise ass? When?

Now, duh. Of course now. I shall buy you the celebratory adult beverage of your choice!

No way, it’s almost your birthday. I’ll get the drinks.

See what I mean? Birthdays are fantastic.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Note from Eagle Crest:
Chelle and I tried all weekend to get the Boys to make snow angels. It became apparent on Sunday night that it was not going to happen. So just before 8pm, with a temperature of -2 degrees, Chelle decided that it was up to us. We jumped the fence on the back porch to do it, because that seemed like it would be more fun than just doing it in the easily accessible snow covered areas all around the front of the condo.

And we hugged, held hands, fell on our backs and flapped our arms and legs.

There may have been giggling.

A lot of giggling.

It was fun.

Chelle had never made a snow angel before.

You should always do fun things when you have a chance, especially when you haven’t ever done them before. After all, you might not ever have another chance.

When you are 51, you are fucking wise about this kind of shit.

It doesn’t even matter that we made the worst snow angels ever seen.
Right?

Happy birthday to me!
 
PS
Kelly, as always, was full of good advice today. Here are a few samples.

Golf advice:
Remember the half a hole rule when putting. Use the same amount of speed/force on your putts, but change the length of your swing proportionate to how far you are from the hole

Seriously. Chelle’s golfing just got a million times better.

 
General advice:
Never put brake fluid on your junk.

 
Beauty advice:
If you have dry patches on your skin, Vaseline works great. Arms, legs, whatever. Not on your penis. Unless you happen to have a dry patch on it, but if you do you might need to be on antibiotics or something.

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