july, july, july (never seemed so strange)

So yesterday my boss asked me how old I would be turning today and I said 36.  She seemed honestly surprised, so I said yeah that’s because I’m so freakin’ immature.

I waited patiently for her to say no no no you are wicked mature!

And waited.

She finally responded that maybe THIS year will be the year I finally grow up. And start acting my age.

I am her best and favorite employee!  She was only mostly kidding.

So yeah!  Thirty-six!  Which seems a lot older and perhaps a trifle less saucy than 35!  But whatever — happy to have made it this far!

For the first time in my life, I am a little bit put out by the timing of my birthday.  I have always loved that it fell on a national holiday — the fact that it is France’s national holiday only serves to convince me that I am destined to one day spend my birthday in Paris.

When I was a kid growing up on the Cape, I developed a mild resentment that I didn’t get the same attention the other kids did on their birthdays — in the lower grades when we would actually celebrate each little munchkin’s birthday with cupcakes and a rousing game of 7-Up (which I can remember LOVING, even though I can’t remember how it was played — something about putting your heads down on your desk, and one kid up at the blackboard… doing… something?  I don’t know, but I just managed to make it sound pretty sinister, didn’t I? Awesome!).

I always figured I got my revenge by having a summertime birthday because that meant I could always have a beach party, always have strawberry shortcake with fresh strawberries, and always celebrate my birthday with my summertime friends at the children’s theater, all of whom I liked far far better than anybody at stupid school anyway.

But now I find myself with a job whose main feature is working like a dog in the summer in preparation for a huge event, and the crunch time happens to fall right on my birthday.  And I LOVE my job, I love this intense time of year, I love the payoff that comes from having carried it all off without a (visible) hitch, and the relaxation that I am then justly entitled to come September.

But as a result I find myself kind of swatting away my birthday with impatience, wishing I could reschedule it for after Labor Day like everything else.  In fact, I also have a pretty major anniversary that falls every year ON THE DAY of the big work-related annual event, and I DO reschedule the celebration of that every year to a more convenient date about a week or two later.

It’s a good thing I don’t have kids. 

I do so love my job.

And this busy time is only for a couple of badly placed months!

But luckily I have friends and family who won’t let me get away with this nonsense, making my birthday weekend quite as jam-packed as if I had to work after all.  Starting today, I am going out to:

  1. lunch with Dad
  2. dinner with Saucy
  3. dinner with husband
  4. a baseball game with the boss who thinks I am immature (not really).

Sigh.  If I must, I must!

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