Hello friends! Prepare for some grade-A stream-of-consciousness writing today. If you can't be uninhibited in your writing on your birthday, then when can you, amirite?
I noticed when I typed out "thirty-second" instead of the number 32nd, it looks the same as 30-second as in the amount of time. This is a fitting accident, as it really feels that my birthdays are already flying by. I have nothing more substantial or profound to add to this observation, but I want you all to know that I am aware of it. Of the speed-of-light birthday thing. Older people are always trying to tell me this fact of life as though I am not yet in the know. But I am! Which brings me to my next random point.
I looked up the word "Methuselan" the other day (thanks to Sub'n Matron's use of it on her blog). Basically, you might
say it's a nicer, more creative way of saying 'old person.' So anyway,
I'm looking it up when I stumble upon a reference on the D&D (that's Dungeons &
Dragons for those of you like me who aren't in the
This find brings me to two thoughts. The first is that I'm going to start keeping
a list of words I want to use more often. Methuselan is a
great-sounding word and is totally better than just saying 'she's an old
The second thought is "Who are these people?" Who are these people who are interested in knowing how to create a virtual undead humanoid? This fact is in no way related to the remainder of my post. But did you know that, about the existence of a D&D Wiki? There's a whole 'nother world of peeps out there, y'all.
My birthday journal entries are always fun ones to go back and read. Unfortunately I haven't been as good about blogging on my birthday as I have at journaling. Here's a post I wrote the year I turned 30. Here's another post I wrote three days before my 29th birthday, and in which I inexplicably do not mention my birthday. No wait, it is explicable, because birthdays in your twenties flit in and out of your life like snowflakes; even the bad ones aren't bad because, cripes, you're in your twenties!
Another by-product of my thirties is that I now always pay attention to someone's age when I'm reading an article about them. I suppose it's so I can properly judge them for whatever accolade they've achieved or ludicrous behavior I'm reading about. Note: Chelsea Clinton and Jessica Simpson are both my age, as are Kate Hudson, Elin Nordagren, Drew Brees, Alicia Keys, Venus Williams, Gisele Bundchen, and John Krasinski. Kim Kardashian is a year younger than me and has two divorces more than me. Yet again, nothing enlightening to say, just passing along the deets. Judge away.
Since it's been over a year since Charlotte was born, I think I might have surpassed the period of time in which I can blame my stupidity on "baby brain" and start accepting that this is the new me. In light of that revelation, I am happy to have discovered a site that lets you determine whether you are about to share old news. Just in case some day I, like many of my elders, cease to be hip and with it. Oh, who am I kidding, that day has arrived.
I'm not sure how old I was when I first saw "When Harry Met Sally," but I do have one memory of its impression on me. Well, two memories. This first is that I marched right over to my friend's house who I knew wore days-of-the-week underpants to find out if it's true they don't make Sunday (It is! or was, circa 1991). The second was that I completely understood why Sally had a meltdown over her age. Or, I thought I understood. To me, she was old, even if Harry tries to convince her she's not. And so, because it was burned in my brain that day, I remember how old she was. Care to guess? Thirty two, of course!
I've already had a wonderful birthday so far, and it's only 8am. Bring on the Facebook onslaught of well wishers I haven't had a real conversation with since 1998! My birthday week doesn't end today, either. Nate and I are getting a babysitter on Friday night so we can finally see the newest Harry Potter film. Our party trick used to be to announce the last movie we saw in the the theater; the point was to shock and horrify our childless friends. But at this point neither one of us can even remember what that last movie was. Are you shocked and horrified?
I got an early birthday present from Charlie yesterday. She simultaneously began walking unsupported around the living room and began climbing on the couch (evidence of her escapades is below). Happy birthday to me!