So I turned 29 last Tuesday, I know, I know, it’s been a while, but please forgive me as I have been celebrating! My birthday is not just one day of celebration. And, of course, I have been celebrating the birth of America too. Well, and writing a research paper, and creating a wedding album for a friend, are just among some of the activities worthy of my time these days. But, back to turning 29, doesn’t it sound like one of those fake ages no-one really is? You’re in no-man’s land, in the cusp year. Not quite in the golden 30’s, but not really relating to those in their early 20’s. It’s like being 19, or 9, or I imagine turning 39 or 49. Personally, I almost wished I’d just skip right over from 28 to 30. Because really, when it comes down to it, what’s the point of 29? It just feels like a weird limbo age, the bridge between “Wild and Crazy” to “Low-Key Dinner Parties.”
(As a side note, for those that know me in the flesh and blood know that I have never really been “Wild and Crazy” I’ve always been much more the “Low-Key Dinner Party” type of gal. Well, except maybe for the six months I spent in Ireland. I was pretty wild and crazy then, and potentially the twelve months after my 21st birthday. But, still, not too wild and crazy comparatively. But, now I don’t have to pretend to be “wild and crazy” and I can look back at those brief “wild and crazy” times with fondness and laughter as I am enjoying my “low-key dinner party.”)
All that being said; however, I was really looking forward to my birthday this year. Mostly, so that I get this almost-at-a-milestone-year on and over with and move on to the new decade. Not that my twenties weren't a ball. They truly were. They started out with a bang: living in Dublin (where incidentally my “Wild and Crazy” days began), graduated college, ran a few marathons, walked down the aisle to the Wedding March, together with the bank - bought a house, traveled to some far-flung places, adopted an adorable puppy, and (fingers-crossed) will graduate from graduate school this decade. Whew. Maybe they weren’t all that bad. And, maybe 29 will be a banner year for me. No wonder I couldn’t wait to get started.
Also, presents really help.
But here’s the thing: if you’d seen me on Tuesday morning, after my dentist appointment (yes, yes, I am one of those crazy people who actually enjoy the dentist), you would have asked yourself whether I was turning 29 or 8. I was going to Disneyland. Internet, you get in free on your birthday.
After a thrilling cleaning (no cavities, natch), coffee and bagels, J and I headed to “the happiest place on Earth” for a day of pirates, ghosts and goblins, Peter Pan, Space Mountain and carnation ice cream. It was a pleasant day, sunny, but not too hot with a nice cool breeze and lines were never that long.
Before my birthday, J had asked me if I wanted to go out for dinner, as per our custom, on Saturday night, but to be perfectly honest, I really kind of didn’t. Perhaps it was the non-stop busyness of the weeks prior, or maybe it was the economy, or the exhaustion from the big-day being surrounded with out-of-town visitors, baby showers (no, no, not my own), and Independence Day BBQs, but all I wanted to do was snuggle up on the couch with our latest Netflix and a bowl of strawberries. So, that is exactly what we did as a pre-birthday celebration. Of course, after the fabulous steak dinner with grilled veggies. (Which J cooked and cleaned up entirely on his own. Do I not have the greatest husband EVER?)
And the funny thing is - this is pretty much exactly what we did for my birthday three years ago too. So, I guess what I’m saying is that hey, I may be 29 now, homeowner and part of an old married couple, but I CAN STILL PARTY LIKE A 26-YEAR-OLD. Well, a 26-year old who likes partying with only her husband, in her living room, in pajamas pants and a tank top, with a puppy at her feet, of course. But still.