December 18, 1974

Today's the day. The thirty fourth anniversary of my birth. Per tradition, I'm wearing my birthday necklace. My mom wore it on my birthday every year until I turned eighteen and now I do. It makes me happy.

It's a funny thing, my birthday. A week before Christmas is a tough time to have a birthday when you're a kid. You get those combo gifts and combo parties. I once received a card and cake from my aunt that said, "Happy Birthday, Jesus (and Kim, too!)" She'd bought the cake and then added my name in some weird purple frosting. Also, one should never pipe parentheses on a cake. Never ever.

Here I am enjoying my fifth birthday and the delicious coconut cake my mom always made me. No piping in purple. Just sweet frosty coconut. That was a good birthday, too.



I've gotten past it now, though. I don't mind sharing with Jesus. Really. It's become a bit of a joke and I love jokes. Just look at the birthday email I received earlier....

Just wanted to drop you a line to wish you a Happy Birthday.
I know it sucks when your birthday is so close to Christmas. After all, who wants to compete with Jesus?
You can’t win.
But that’s still no excuse to go as far as you could in the opposite direction of goodness and light.
Peace.

...Or this bouquet I received this morning as a gag. This particular florist makes the most terrible arrangements ever. But I will admit, it is much better than the one I received last year.

This was last year's arrangement and it was like none we had seen before. It arrived a day later than expected (or maybe two) and many of the flowers were oozing brown slime. The "V" formation of the flowers was really something. When my friend called to complain, they told her it was "just like crispy lettuce" when they delivered it and they didn't know what in the world she was going on and on about. It was NOT meant as a joke but after the horrific realization that they still charged her about 40 bucks for the monstrosity, what could we do but laugh?




Logan called me this morning and it was a special treat. He's never been one to talk on the phone so every word is a gift, even if it is delivered in a Ben Stein sort of monotone.
"Happy Birthday, Mama. Do you want my Christmas list now or when you pick me up Saturday? Ok. Bye. I love you, too."



I got plenty of rest last night. I'm alive and nothing hurts today. My family and friends love me and I love them back. It's a good day. I hope I have another 12,510 days ahead of me, at least.

(Note: I did not take leap years into account when I figured up how many days I've been alive. I'm not a mathematician so give me a break. It is my birthday after all.)