So does a birthday put you to alcohol consumption or a sudden need to hide under your pillow for a day or two? It was my turn this week and as you may well know, I believe birthdays are for taking stock of things. As my husband pointed out, I’m two 19 year olds now (minus the energy to stay out till 4 in the morning). I however prefer to think of it as being half a blue-hair. Either way, as my mother would say: it beats the alternative. And how can any of us argue that with her? Unless of course, you have one of those really sucky lives where your mother is doing your husband behind your back and they’ve already tried to book you for the Jerry Springer show. Then, the alternative might not be better, but for most of us, life may not be a box of chocolates but it’s not a bowl of nasty ass tofu either. Just sayin’.
So when in doubt, you gotta go to the checklist. We have to see our successes and failures. Isn’t that what’s on your list? Or is yours a grocery list or a bucket list? I’m kind of a girl of all lists, I’m just realizing. For today though, the grocery list is already handled, the bucket list is being ignored, and the list of successes and failures is kinda lop-sided, but oh well, you can’t hate yourself for everything, right? I mean, Whitney Houston died this week after being the singer of many of my all-time favorite songs because she couldn’t find her way. I can’t tell you how many times I busted out the lyrics, “If I fail, if I succeed, at least I live as I believe…” And here we are on my birthday weekend to analyze that very fact. Some people like me, some hate me, but I’ve never lived how somebody else wanted me to. Never will, either. So let’s evaluate the checklist:
|–||Computer –literate||Managed to make a table and post blog- but don’t ask me what RAM is, I’ll tell you it’s a lamb|
|X||Job||– year 15|
|X||Husband||(good husband I might add) – year 7|
|X||House||– messy but safe and well-loved|
|X||Family||– not disowned and even remembered on said birthday|
|X||Friends||– college friends still willing to travel with me and friends in current city willing to provide me with excessive amounts of dessert for birthday|
|Epic fail||Money||– definitely not the quantity every poor farm girl dreams of|
|0||Writing career||– not at the level of notice of even K-Fed (who just got a famous person knocked up)|
|0||Health||– down one ear, up in weight|
Gonna have to go ahead and say that it’s not all bad and as you’ve probably heard me say, aging has only been good to me. Okay, maybe not in the under eye region or the weight loss categories, but otherwise my teen years were one giant Murphy’s Law example, my twenties were angst-ridden but better, and my thirties I dare say have been kind. So here we are. I could be upset about aging but then I think about where I’m at and what we’ve all lived through, and quite honestly, it’s fascinating.
Just think… a lot of us were pre-google, pre-keyless entry, pre-seatbelts, pre-cable, pre-remote control, pre-cordless phone (and obviously cell phone), pre-buffalo wings, pre-laptops, and pre-reality TV. Dear God! If that doesn’t overwhelm you, consider the fact that we were of the bush era in Playboy and I am not referring to the presidents Bush (although we were that, too). We were blessed to be of the Aaron Spelling “da plane, da plane” era and we saw and cared who shot J.R. even though now he’d just get voted off the island. Hell, we survived getting up to change the channel! That, my friends, is a testament to our success! From there, we went to remotes, mute, VCRs, DVDs, and dear Lord, thank you for giving us the DVR!
We’ve gone through 45’s, 33’s, 8-tracks, cassette tapes, cds that we bought at Musicland, and now we store them all on an ipod we shove in our change pocket. We’ve seen new money. We’ve watched the Berlin Wall fall and the Dairy Queen blizzard come into being. As hideous as it may be, we’ve even started paying money to get bottles of water and think nothing of texting a note on our phones instead of writing a letter, using a typewriter to send a memo, or asking the telephone operator to call collect. Damn! We’re old! And quite frankly, I’m completely okay with that because I may not have to get my hand stamped to drink in a bar anymore, but I still know who Chelle Rae is and how to download an ap of a bubble level to measure where to put the nail in my coffin. Just sayin’ a little perspective may date me back to Watergate, but it puts me on the road to a real-life Jetson car, too! Put that into your iPod and play it!