It's raining today. So we're stuck inside.
We had a good morning, despite the fact that we were napless till about five minutes ago.
Stroller Strides. A latte (not from former employer - I was strong). Lots of birthday wishes. A quick trip to Borders where I picked up a few books I've been wanting to read - Kitchen Confidential (have I ever mentioned what a huge crush I have on Anthony Bourdain?) and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies - and also a Sandra Boynton for G (for me too - if you have to read things OVER AND OVER they might as well be fun). An unsuccessful attempt at finding new jeans that I did not let ruin my day.
As I get older, birthdays are definitely much less eventful. Which is fine, because even though getting older doesn't REALLY bother me, I'm not that excited about it either.
On my drive home from the mall I was trying to remember my most fabulous birthday. I have had a lot of BAD ones. Horribly bad. I had a boyfriend who serially dumped me right before my birthday, probably trying to get out of gift buying. My twenty-first birthday - the actual day - was spectacularly bad. Eight shots of tequila in less than two hours and I was done. So messed up I couldn't even watch 90210. I KNOW. I can hardly even remember it - the only way I know the whole thing happened is a lovely photo my roommate took of me, sprawled out on the floor in a miniskirt, barely lifting my head beside my huge Tupperware barf bowl to scowl and flip her the bird with both fingers. What can I say? I just ooze class.
As for the best birthday, I had to go way back. I'm thinking it was probably my tenth birthday, at the roller rink. It was simple, it was fun. My boyfriend (and I'm using the term very loosely) was there, and he skated with me, and it was just DREAMY.
That was pretty awesome.
Of course, maybe someday, a birthday will top that one. But I'm not holding my breath.