A line cast, a hope followedThursday, April 22, 2004
Do you prefer to plan your own birthday, or have someone else plan something for you?
I seem to find birthdays the perfect excuse for being impossible to please. Which is odd because I like birthdays, it doesn't distress me to age, after all its just a day more. Most times I don't mind being overt about my wants and needs. For some reason, I assume everyone should for this one day read my mind and understand what bizarre whim would please me.
A few years back, I was lucky enough to have some of my best out of town friends around the week before my birthday. I set up a room at a local German restaurant where there are strolling accordion players and everyone who works there retired from the set of The Sound of Music. We drank lots, ate excessively, laughed with abandon, and it was one of the better birthdays I can remember. It was an exception. Most of the time I sit in a quandary until its too late, and then I pout about it all day thinking "you have only yourself to blame" when there's no party. Irresponsible birthday planning is one of those privileges you give up when your family lives out of town, you're single, and your kids are too young to go out and buy the beer. Ok, deep inside I also recognize I'm damn bad at remembering anyone else's birthday and making anything out of it when its their turn. So why would anyone do it for me? I'm right on track this year! Self pity, guilt and abandon all tied up in a pretty bow!
This year I dreamed up a birthday dinner of BBQ'ed steaks, baked potatoes and asparagus. But. I don't want to invite people over because my house is torn up in remodeling angst. I don't want to ask anyone else to do it because then I'd be imposing. I don't want to do it at a restaurant because it would cost too much. And at least two of my four "must-have" friends wouldn't eat steak anyway, and a third would only do it because he thought he should accommodate me. Normally I don't eat steak either. Especially since I got secretly paranoid about mad cow disease.
Nothing else will do though. I froze up, unwilling to compromise on anything, so nothing is planned. I will find that answer least acceptable of all, but for some reason I think I'm entitled to shirk all responsibility for it since its my birthday.
Don't even ask about the cake.
I really can't whine, my women's circle had gifts and chocolate souffle for me during our retreat last weekend, so there was a bit of a party, but shhh don't tell anyone, or I'll lose my excuse to complain and fuss.
Make my day! Post a birthday comment! Pretty please?
I seem to find birthdays the perfect excuse for being impossible to please. Which is odd because I like birthdays, it doesn't distress me to age, after all its just a day more. Most times I don't mind being overt about my wants and needs. For some reason, I assume everyone should for this one day read my mind and understand what bizarre whim would please me.
A few years back, I was lucky enough to have some of my best out of town friends around the week before my birthday. I set up a room at a local German restaurant where there are strolling accordion players and everyone who works there retired from the set of The Sound of Music. We drank lots, ate excessively, laughed with abandon, and it was one of the better birthdays I can remember. It was an exception. Most of the time I sit in a quandary until its too late, and then I pout about it all day thinking "you have only yourself to blame" when there's no party. Irresponsible birthday planning is one of those privileges you give up when your family lives out of town, you're single, and your kids are too young to go out and buy the beer. Ok, deep inside I also recognize I'm damn bad at remembering anyone else's birthday and making anything out of it when its their turn. So why would anyone do it for me? I'm right on track this year! Self pity, guilt and abandon all tied up in a pretty bow!
This year I dreamed up a birthday dinner of BBQ'ed steaks, baked potatoes and asparagus. But. I don't want to invite people over because my house is torn up in remodeling angst. I don't want to ask anyone else to do it because then I'd be imposing. I don't want to do it at a restaurant because it would cost too much. And at least two of my four "must-have" friends wouldn't eat steak anyway, and a third would only do it because he thought he should accommodate me. Normally I don't eat steak either. Especially since I got secretly paranoid about mad cow disease.
Nothing else will do though. I froze up, unwilling to compromise on anything, so nothing is planned. I will find that answer least acceptable of all, but for some reason I think I'm entitled to shirk all responsibility for it since its my birthday.
Don't even ask about the cake.
I really can't whine, my women's circle had gifts and chocolate souffle for me during our retreat last weekend, so there was a bit of a party, but shhh don't tell anyone, or I'll lose my excuse to complain and fuss.
Make my day! Post a birthday comment! Pretty please?