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Bowl of cake

Today I turned [old enough to know better, but not so old that I don’t at least consider it]. Birthdays, like New Year’s Day, tend to inspire questions from others, and those questions change depending upon your age. Since it’s obvious that I’m never going to have children, and I’m not yet old enough to retire, most of the questions I’ve gotten have been sort of stammered and awkward (“So…any plans for your birthday?” “How’s it feel to be [insert age here]?”)

Mostly they’re awkward because we still dance around a woman’s age here in America (50 is the new 40, you know). There is no aging gracefully: we must all be tanned, toned, and trim, ready to compete with women half our ages in any arena there is (forgetting, of course, the truism that age and treachery will beat youth and enthusiasm every time). Though, in the spirit of the advice I gave my friend Bill, who is 366 days older than me (so nice of him to try out each age just before I get there, don’t you think?) — having a birthday is better than the alternative, and don’t think of it as another year older, think of it as another year more fabulous — I’m giving myself a little birthday gift. I’m giving myself permission.

I’m giving myself permission to just be; to not think so much; to not be concerned with all the things I’m told a “good citizen” should be concerned with; to be passionate about the things I really care about; to try new things and not be perfect at them; to be sad; to be alone; to be happy; to refuse a challenge; to have my own opinions; to make mistakes; to be earnest; to be thankful and say as much.

And in the spirit of that last one, thank you to everyone who has come by here, and to the folks who leave me comments. I appreciate the time you take (it is, after all, the only thing you can’t get more of), and the kind words, and the ways in which you sometimes challenge my thinking.

Sit down, have some cake. There’s ice cream in the freezer if you want.

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Comments

  1. Let me be the first to wish you a happy birthday 🙂 as always wishing you all the best espeically on your b-day *hugs*

  3. Saw this, thought of you:

    http://theshiftedlibrarian.com/2003/05/09.html
    “When I Grow Up I Want to Be an Old Woman”
    You Know You’re a Grown-up When You Grumble at This

    “A new poll by the University of Chicago’s National Opinion Research Center reports that most Americans think people need to be 26 to be considered ‘grown up.’

    College-educated Americans put the age even higher–between 28 and 29.

    Tom Smith, director of the center’s General Social Survey, said he had never asked the question before but, using other surveys, he thinks that Americans’ notion of when adulthood starts is later now than in the past.

    Indeed, some social scientists have declared that ’30 is the new 20.’ ” [Chicago Sun-Times]
    —
    Happy birthday!
    Hugs, Carrie in Tucson

    PS: A bowl of cake, why, that’s like a whole meal. In my family of origin, we have a bowl of leftover birthday cake for breakfast the next day like it’s cereal. Yes, with milk poured over it. And you must recite lines from Bill Cosby’s routine: “Eggs, there’s eggs in chocolate cake! And milk! And flour!” Then it’s all nutritional 🙂

  7. Belated happy [old enough to know better, but not so old that you would at least consider a bowl of cake] birthday.