Yeah, I know…I didn’t post a blog last week, so shoot me. I’ve been too traumatized by the fact that I am turning 47 on February 5th, only to be upstaged by the Superbowl – which, by the way, involves two teams I hate, but I’m going to have to go with the Giants, because I hate
New England more. Take that Tom Brady. Eli gets to be THE MAN. By the way Tom, I hope your wife gets fat and
all of your hair falls out.
Actually this year I am not dreading my birthday with the same vigor displayed in years past. Mostly because I have decided that this year, I shall throw myself a birthday extravaganza. It will be a fabulous soire with all my friends who are more than glad to help me usher in my special day…mostly because they know I don’t care if they trash my house and I always have a fully stocked bar. My “pawty” even has a theme, bacon. Why? Why not? Is there anything more perfect than a perfectly cooked slice of bacon wrapped around a scallop? I plan on having a complete line of bacon-festooned dishes sure to send at least half the guests into cholesterol-induced cardiac arrest. There will be bacon cheeseburger sliders, bacon mac and cheese, bacon deviled eggs, and at least a half dozen other nommy bacon infused dishes. I’ve forewarned those attending to double up on their Lipitor. Let’s hope they listened.
I think there is another reason why I am so hyped up about my birthday party this year, other than the party factor. I think it could be that I’ve come to a place where I am really quite happy with the way life has turned out, all things considered. I’m also comfortable enough in my own skin to not mind getting older. I thought it would be horrible, but really, it’s not. I have a group of friends that operate like a finely tuned emsemble cast. We know each other, we play off each other. We hound each other endlessly over each other’s soft spots and weaknesses. We’ve had to weed out a few undesirables who simply couldn’t “run with the big dogs” so we thought it better if they just stayed on the porch. It’s never a dull moment, and I love that about them. I hope they’re around for my 77th birthday, which I will attending on my pimped-out jazzy scooter with the cupholder for my cocktail and basket on the front to carry around my sweet Bill. Actually, maybe a sidecar would be better, we’ll have to see what kind of options those things have when it is required.
I have my daughter, who rolls her eyes at me like no other. She is brilliantly funny, beautiful beyond words (although she doesn’t believe that) and blessed with a brain much bigger than mine. She makes every day a joy, even when she’s pissing me off ten different ways, and I’m so very proud of her. She’s my girl, my angel, the very best part of me.
I have a family that I am truly grateful to have in my life. They ground me, hold me up, and make me feel that no matter what, I am loved. It’s hard to match that feeling, and I love them back a thousand times more.
And last but not least, I have my Bill. My therapist, my soulmate, my friend, and my partner. He loves me unconditionally, despite my faults, quirks and idiosyncracies, and loves me for exactly who I am. I can’t remember what it was like in my life before he was beside me, but I’m sure I never want to go through life without him again.
So here’s to 47. May it be as glorious as the last 46 years. I have so much to be thankful for, so much to live for, and so much to give back to those who have been so totally awesome to me. Everyone should be so blessed.