When you get to my rather mature years (60 is the new 30, apparently, especially when you have fake parts!), birthdays can come and go without any hoopla. Mostly what we/me would prefer is to be left alone for an entire day with a house full of dogs and a good book. No presents required, no cake, no cards … but my daughter is a traditionalist, as I used to be when I could be bothered years ago. She likes to make a big deal out of holidays and birthdays. She makes sure that everything is just perfect for the person she loves.
An act of fate made her birthday arrive two days before mine 32 years ago. We made such a royal fuss of her again this year with presents, cards, a visit to the beach with her pups and lunch in Pacific Grove, that I expected my day — two days later — to be exactly what I wanted — the opposite of her day, or, to be clear, near nothing.
“I’m not going anywhere today,” I said to husband, almost like a threat. “Salmon OK for dinner then?” he enquires.
“Oh, you mean like regular, everyday salmon, nothing special on my birthday?” He looks dumbfounded/male and goes very quiet. “I specifically asked for red meat on my birthday!” I assert, like a spoiled child. Off he dutifully goes to the store to shop for the birthday that I wasn’t celebrating.
“Your daughter is coming for dinner!” he tells me. “Oh, like a birthday party kind of thing, how nice!” I exclaim, all delighted. I wonder, sometimes, if I’m a little bipolar.
And yes, she and her husband came for dinner carrying flowers, presents, cake (with a photograph of me on it!) and it certainly was all very lovely. I had spent the day being entirely selfish and then we had red meat for dinner with three of my favorite people. Is there a better birthday than that? I highly doubt it.
But after the birthday circuit and far too much cake and red meat, you feel a little deflated. I remember wishing, as a child, that after the celebrations were over, I could spin back a few days and “do” my birthday or Christmas all over again.
But wait, it wasn’t over, this birthday circuit was continuing, there was more!
Saturday it was time for birthday wine tasting down in Paso Robles, always a fun place to go. We took off early in the morning and had a delicious and delightful day, eating and drinking too much as you do on these occasions. (“Oh yes, more of everything!”) And then it was time for another birthday party — my son-in-law was throwing my daughter a surprise and belated party at their house. I was wiped by this time, took a nibble of a trip-tip sandwich and realized that I had a sore throat. Uh-oh, the birthday circuit was catching up with this old broad.
Back to the homestead we went, after our brief appearance at the surprise party, and it was immediately time for a hot toddy of sorts to try and kick the sore throat, a warm bath and bed. I had to be up early yet again the following morning to go to my birthday present of a 49er game. Though medicated and not quite on top of my own game, I picked up my friend, and we gainfully maneuvered ourselves through the game traffic to the parking lot near Levi Stadium.
It was the bestest day for a birthday game at the stadium. Not too warm, not too cool, great atmosphere. And, best of all, the win. At this point I was feeling definitely peeky and hacked all the way back to drop off my friend and get to bed. Though she had wanted to have a very-last-birthday-celebration on the way home, I absolutely could not. All my birthday brakes had gone on, and I was now checking out of the circuit.
The next day I was hacking up a lung, overbrimming with a thick cold, fever and more. Thank god it was no longer my celebratory birth week. I coughed at my husband, tested negative for Covid and went back to bed for what seemed like the best part of three whole days. I was so tired I could not even muster the energy to revisit my birthday cards or finish up my cake.
“You do that to yourself, don’t you!” said my old friend who has known me for about 50 years. “You go, go, go and ignore all the signs, don’t you, Madame. Then your body puts you on a time out and to bed.”
“Yes,” I reply meekly, cough-cough, already tired of being on my medically-induced time out and ready to get back into the fast lane again.
Fortunately, there was very little going on that week that could not be rescheduled, and, at the end of the week, I really felt as if I had caught up on my sleep. My dogs, who had loved sleeping all those hours with me, perked up their ears and said to one another, ‘“Oh no, she’s on the move again!”
And yes, I am. This week I am flying to Chicago and meeting my oldest friend, where we are going to have way too much fun, likely celebrate my birthday again — please, no cake, champagne will do — and catch up on the last few months since our New York adventure. When she moved back to this land mass, we promised each other we would meet up at least once a year somewhere different and enjoy a few days of unadulterated “us” time. Chicago will be a super spot to visit a lot of museums, feast on the sight-seeing, go to a comedy show, (Seinfeld, yes!) listen to some authentic jazz … oh and visit a brand-new presidential library that we are very excited to see.
I realize that I do enjoy celebrating my birthday after all and I do want to continue to do so. These are the bonus days that not everyone gets. Discounting the little gifts I allow myself around this time of year (hark, a pair of 49er Crocs I just have to have! It is my birthday after all …), it’s the time in your life to take stock of all the goodness and love in your life — the people who show up for you and love you, no matter what.
I loved reading my birthday messages and photo collages that peeps took the time to make for me. I adored the meals, outings and even cake. I am so very anticipatory of visiting a city I have never seen and indulging in vistas as yet undiscovered in my little world. This birthday girl has very much enjoyed her birthday month that now seems to be bleeding into the next one. As my old friend added to her previous exclamation, “You are INCORRIGIBLE!”
Columnist Lucy Jensen may be reached at lu*************@***il.com.
