For another hour or so, June 28, 2006

it’s my fucking birthday.

Yeah, you read right. That was FUCKING birthday. Because once you get past, say, 33, every birthday is a FUCKING birthday. Oh, hell, another fucking birthday? Didn’t I just get another year older, like, fifteen minutes ago? For God’s sake. WHEN WILL IT END?

Well, duh, yeah, it’ll end when I’m dead. But I’m not dead yet.

Not by a long shot. I’m 37.

And instead of writing some bitchy, negative post about getting old, I’m going to write a post about how grateful I am to have had the life I’ve had so far, about what I have accomplished and accumulated and all that sort of positive, life affirming, YEAH!-being-37-ain’t-so-bad crap.

Okay, so I can’t think of anything. I’ll be right back. I have to go freshen my drink.

1. I can manage to afford to (almost) always have a good bottle of vodka in my freezer. It’s the little things, you know? Plus, even when the Safeway brand of tonic is on sale, I still buy the Schweppes, because what, really, am I saving when buying the generic brand on sale versus the brand I like not on sale? 40 cents? 30 cents? Fuck it. Schweppes is the shit. Damnit.

2. Okay, so #1 was a gimme. I’ll get all serious now.

I have a wonderful family. I have two beautiful, healthy, smart, well-behaved (usually) children. Today, I was cleaning out the refrigerator (I had this sudden notion that it would be really annoying to have to repeatedly reach into said refrigerator to freshen my cocktails and have to, every time, think to myself, DAMNIT, I have to clean out the refrigerator, so yes, I cleaned my refrigerator on my birthday because it made me happy), and I had gotten to the final moments of the act (which took me 2 hours because I kept having to take cigarette breaks and check my email and such, and because there was some odd congealed goo at the bottom that required repeated wiping), and I had a rag (an old cloth diaper. YES! I did use cloth diapers until my second child was about 4-5 months old when I finally said, “WHAT THE HELL? CLOTH DIAPERS ARE DISGUSTING!!!” and yes, I had a service, because there ain’t no fucking way I’m WASHING any shitty diapers) and the stainless steel polish, and I’m trying to clear away all the greasy fingerprints and such from the fridge and my son walks in and he says, “MOM???? What are you doing? It’s your birthday!!! Give me that!” and he swipes the rag and the squeeze bottle of polish out of my hand and proceeds to finish polishing the front of the fridge. It was hard to ask him to pause for a moment so I could get my vodka out of the freezer, but I did it, and he completed the job, and my husband came home from work and helped him make sure to get all those little hidden areas, so I wouldn’t have a thing to complain about.

I mean, honestly. My son insisted on wiping down the fridge. Granted, he might not have bothered if it hadn’t been my birthday, but it was a wonderful thing to hear him say that and to see him and his sweet little smug and satisfied face when he swiped the rag out of my hand. The perfect birthday gift.

I also have a great husband. I could probaby write some long-ass negative post about him but the fact is that he is a good man, he works hard to support his family, and even though he might sometimes really not want to, he supports me in my own endeavors, even though they don’t (YET) bring in a whole lot of money. But that huge advance is RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER.

3. I live in a nice house in a wonderful town with great schools. Isn’t that what we all dreamed of having by the time we were 37?

Well, no, I never imagined being 37. I always thought I’d hit 22 and stay there. But we can’t have everything.

Along with the nice house and the wonderful town and all that, I have awesome neighbors. Really awesome, sweet, and caring neighbors whom I consider to be great friends. That, in itself, is a great blessing.

4. Damn, I’m sure there’s more.

Oh! I know! I have the best parents and the best brothers on the planet. NO SHIT. I am frequently heard to be espousing the wonders of my parents and brothers. My parents love me and support me, regardless, and my brothers do too, and along with that, they don’t let me get away with any shit. I could write a whole post about how grateful I am to have the parents and siblings that I have been blessed with. They are all wonderful people, and there is no way I would be the amazing and fantastic person I am without their guiding hands.

Seriously, though? I know many people who complain about their families. I don’t have that problem. AND? I get to be the godmother of my newest niece, and I can’t think of a greater honor. I’ve been randomly tossed into these silly verklempt moments over the last few days because of it.

What number am I on? 5? Okay. Hmmm. I better go have a smoke. Hell, I should just bring the whole damn laptop out onto the porch and smoke and drink and blog (hey, Duke? am I getting back to the old days again?)

Oh, wait a minute. I forgot to mention my sisters-in-law. Not just the ones my brothers married, but also the ones I inherited when I got married. I’m blessed there, too.

5. I have a great bunch of friends. It’s taken me 37 years to figure out that you have different friends for different reasons, but I believe I am fortunate enough to have a lot of friends who understand me and let me be who I am. And some who completely understand when I call them because I’m out of vodka, and they arrive with a bottle and some tonic. And maybe a lime.

But that’s belittling how much my friends mean to me. And when I call you my friend, it means something. I love my friends. Every damn one of them. Even the ones I have met only through the internet, although the chance that they’re going to show up at my backdoor in a moment of need with a bottle of vodka is slim. I love them anyway (and you all know who you are, do I have to make a fucking list?)

6. I get to do what I love to do. And that is to write. And to teach others to write. I don’t make much doing either of those things yet. I make more teaching than writing (and that’s not much, believe me). But I will. I’m confident of that (aren’t you?). You know what? If you’re not yet 37? Do me a favor and make sure you’re doing, when you’re 37, something you enjoy. And if you’re past 37 and you’re not doing something you enjoy (besides this moment, reading my post, because obviously you’re enjoying doing that), then stop whatever it is you’re doing (and I mean IN GENERAL, not what you’re doing right THIS MOMENT, which is reading my post), and figure out a way to do what you enjoy. This world could use a few more people doing what they enjoy.

No, really. If we all did something we enjoyed doing…and by that, I mean if we all did something TO MAKE A LIVING that we enjoy, not just sitting around our homes smoking crack (if, in fact, that is something you might enjoy), this world would be a vastly better place. Wouldn’t it?

What am I on? 7? Okay. I seriously should be able to think of 7 things to be grateful for at the ripe old age of 37.

8. Boys. I love boys. Maybe it’s just because I have all brothers and no sisters, but boys have the right idea. SEX FOOD MOMMY. What more do you need? You have those three basics, and you are golden, right? Do I need to say more?

9. This Good Green Earth. I want it to still be be here, not just for me, but for my children’s children and their children’s children. And, my friends, if we don’t pull our heads out of our collective ass, this baby’s a goner.  Enough said.  For now.

10.  Ten’s good, right?  I just have to think of something for 10.

Alright, I’ll be all cheesy and stupid and say THE INTERNETS.  I love this INTERNETS thing.  It’s amazing and huge and scary and small all at the same time.  When the Web was a new thing, was just a buzz word, when you’d watch a commercial and then, at the end, they’d show some ridiculously long URL for a web page and no one knew what the fuck that was all about, I did two things:

1.  I reconnected with my most favoritest and bestest friend Susan by figuring out, just barely, a bit about USENET and posting on every Grateful Dead group I could find saying that I was looking for her, posting my email address and phone number and probably, stupidly, my home address, and lo and behold, not much long after, I heard from her.

2.  I ordered a pair of shoes.  They were Nike running shoes, and GOD KNOWS I won’t ever buy another Nike product for the rest of eternity, and it wasn’t like I was even able to see a picture of them.  I just read a description, gave them my credit card number, held my breath for a week, and then received a pair of shoes from UPS.  It changed my freakin life.  The goddamn internet.  Who would’ve thunk it?

11.  You people.  All you people, however you got here, either via BlogMad or BlogAdvance or because you still manage to love me and keep, in desperate hope, checking to see if I’ve posted, or you’ve got my feed in your feedreader (God BLESS you, really), but however you arrived here, YOU PEOPLE.  I love you all, each and every one of you.

I’ll leave you now, because this post was titled “For another hour or so,” and now it should be “For another 6 minutes or so,” with the lyrics to my favorite birthday song, by Cracker.

I was having a good sleep
in my car
In the, parking lot of the
Showboat Casino hotel

I say, “I remember you
you drive like a PTA mother”
You brought me draft beer
in a plastic cup

I’m feeling thankful
for the small things, today
I’m feeling thankful
for the small things, today

Happy, Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday to me
and to you

Happy, Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday to me
and to you-ah

I’m feeling thankful
for the small things, today
I’m feeling thankful
for the small things, today

I remember you
I crashed your wedding
With some, orange crepe paper
and some Halloween candy

A sometimes
I wish I were Catholic
I don’t know why
I guess I’m happy to see your face
at a time like this

Happy, Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday to me
and to you-ah

Happy, Happy Birthday to me
Happy Birthday to me
and to you-ah

Happy Birthday baby, to me
Happy Birthday, to me
Happy Birthday, to me
Happy Birthday, to me