Every year my birthday gets me down. I always spend weeks hyping it up, talking as if I’m a big deal, and then the day comes and my smile fades, tail stops wagging, and I shut the F up.
I have no idea why, but without fail, I fall silent at turning another year older…
On Saturday I turned 28. Twenty-eight officially puts me in the late-20s range, one step closer to the what-is-supposed-to-be-dreaded number 30. Thing is, I’m kinda looking forward to 30. I’m not looking forward to aging for the obvious reasons of progressively more violent and intolerable hangovers, and slower response time and less agility when throwing myself down a mountain… but I’ll fight it… mind over matter, eh?
I’m looking forward to it because they say your 30s are the best years of your life. Who says this? You know, “they;” the collective undefined group we attribute claims to when we have no valid reason for stating whatever it is we are stating.
Well, I believe “they,” and for good reasons, too. 1) Actual people whose opinions I respect have supported this statement. 2) And my intuition says, “30. good!”
But hold on: I’m getting a bit ahead of myself here. This weekend was 28, and possibly one of the best birthdays I ever had. And again, for good reasons.
It kicked off with happy [six] hours. I once again collected those from all facets of my life that I hold near and dear to celebrate with me. The most difficult part of the night was trying to explain how everyone was connected.
Saturday I headed up to VT with the girls—JMay and Triple A.
Saturday Night: Vermont. Cherry Vodka. Brownies. Hot tub. ‘Nuff said.
(Side story to fit the NaBloPoMo theme of “strangers:” Sitting in the hot tub amidst piles of snow with drink in hand, I thanked SBing-CG for his hospitality and declared that the weekend was owning up be one of the best birthdays ever. At the time I was sitting in the hot tub with SBing-CG and two ppl who up until two hours earlier were essentially strangers. Yet, new people, new energy, all good. (And yes, since my book apparently isn’t writing itself, I’m NaBloPoMo’ing again to try to kickstart the habit.))
Sunday: Stratton. Snow. Snowboard. No more fractured bones. Good day.
Car ride home with JMay and Triple A… bringing us to up near 10 hours of road-trip QT time.
Being absolutely spoiled rotten by JMay and Triple A.
All in all, it was a great time, great weekend, fabulous company and top-choice activities. What more could a girl ask for…
Happy Birthday to me! 29 here I come!