Scenes from my birthday party

I wish I was watching all of my 21 Jump Street DVD episodes with Sars. Best moment of the pilot: when Johnny Depp gets really sad because he can’t stop thinking about his father, we watch him from outside his apartment window as he stares at a photograph of his father while soulfully playing the saxophone.

Oh, Jump Street. Loved you then, love you now. Can’t wait to get to the Brad Pitt episode. Continue reading

Since Turning Thirty, I…

–woke up with aches and pains. I do believe I said, “Ow, my back.”

–forgot what I was going to say two words into the sentence.

–publicly announced someone’s birthday as belated, when it hadn’t happened yet.

–surfed online for a good, affordable Singer, and not the kind that come to my house and play Karaoke Revolution.

–complained out loud to nobody about squirrels in my yard eating my sweet basil.

–moved tables at the restaurant because where we were sitting was “drafty and too busy.”

–made a pot of tea.

–got pride from making a chickpea and eggplant filo pie in my new springform cake pan just like Nigella would.

–held a cat who didn’t want to be held and told him he wanted to be held because he’s a good kitty and it’s my birthday.

–wore my pajamas until five in the afternoon.

–couldn’t remember which piece of sushi I had just eaten, causing a three-minute discussion over who gets the remaining piece.

–celebrated a pile of books and gardening tools as presents.

–gabbed on the phone all day to friends and family while sometimes wearing a robe over my pajamas, wandering around my yard, fixing the tulips.

Maybe the body does start to change, just a little. And I suppose I’m getting a tad on the grown-up’y side. Not too much, though. I had a fantastic birthday, filled with well-wishes and good news from so many friends.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta pull my rocking chair up to the veggie patch and shoo away the squirrels. Pa’s callin’ for his britches, so I gotta get back to my sewing.

The Curviest Number

So, I’m thirty. Today.

“Drew Barrymore just turned thirty,” stee says from across the breakfast table. He’s got that tone — hesitantly trying to cheer me up.

That’s how many people have approached me over the past week. “Soo…” they start. “Someone has a birthday…?”

Like they expect me to stop them in the middle of their sentence. “Birthdays are cancelled!” Continue reading

little voice

I’m feeling a bit better

Well, what happens when you sit around your house for two days feeling sorry for yourself and not talking?

Your voice comes back.

Not completely, but enough for me to come back to work.  Enough for me to get out of the house, which I really needed.  Last night I was so bored from sitting around my house that I fell asleep at eleven.  I haven’t done that in I don’t know how long.

Because so much time has passed since my last “real” entry, things are starting to blur and fade.  The wholeness of the weekend is starting to break up into moments that I don’t want to forget.  Now I just have little notes to myself:

 

things to remember…

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zzzz

talking in our sleep

I feel absolutely terrible today.  My face is all puffy, my head is stuffed up.  My voice is all rough.  My throat hurts.  I was up late last night feeling sorry for myself and not making things any better.

What is it that compels me to blame other people for my own insecurities?  I don’t know.  I really don’t.

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day two

tae-bo, mail and trivia

This morning as I was waking from my hazy sleep I felt Eric lean over to give me a kiss goodbye.  I wiggled my head out from my pillow.

[scripty]
ERIC
Sweet Pea?

PAMIE
Yeah?

ERIC
What am I getting for birthday week?

PAMIE
Oh, sweetie–

(I reached up, put my hand to his face, and pushed him away.)

PAMIE
Go to work.  Go make Mommy some money so she can buy her sauce and watch her stories.
[/scripty]

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antsy eric

so many days, so few are for birthday week

Ooh.  I’m tired today.

You know how some evenings you’re going along, doing your thing and some friends come over and you are all hanging out and having a good time and then suddenly you say to yourself, “Wait a minute!  It’s Monday night!  What am I doing?  This isn’t the weekend?  Oh, why are all of my friends bartenders and waiters?  They don’t have to wake up until after noon tomorrow.  This isn’t fair.  It’s so depressing I’m gonna have to have another beer.”

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