HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME.

"Tomorrow was her birthday, and she was thinking how fast the years went by, how old she was getting, and how little she seemed to have accomplished. Almost twenty-five and nothing to show for it.”

-Little Women

But enough with the depressing stuff. 

Tomorrow is my birthday, which I take very seriously. But not just mine -- I get overly excited about all birthdays. Anyone who doesn't make a big deal of their birthday is a fool, A DAMNED FOOL!

First off, the birthday person should never go to work. Or school. Or doctor's appointments. Or jury duty. Or anything. However, not everyone can ditch all responsibilities on their birthday, which is a real shame. The fault really lies with the employer. Friends, if you run a business, surprise your employees with a cake the day before their birthday, then surprise them again with a DAY OFF. They'll be so happy they'll probably work twice as hard the day after.*

You know who doesn't make a big deal of his birthday? The fiance. He just sort of shrugs whenever I bring it up, so it's up to me to put candles in his pancakes and fashion him a construction paper crown and make him promise not to take it off all day and hop around singing made-up birthday songs and throwing glitter in the air and wearing myself out just to get him to give a crap about the annual celebration of the day he came into the world.

Of course, on my birthday he's always out of town on a mandatory business trip. He leaves me a present to open and then takes me somewhere special when he gets back so that my birthday lasts the whole month(!). I know it sounds sad to spend your birthday by yourself, but sometimes it's kinda nice and weirdly relaxing to be alone on a day that's meant for indulgence and celebration of YOU. Especially if you're an introvert who finds being around other human people exhausting. Sometimes I tell people I'm hanging out with someone just so they won't feel bad and offer to keep me company, when really I just relax best by myself. When Bill gets back from his trip I'll drag him and our friends out to karaoke, but in the meantime, here's my plan:

I'm gonna sleep in real late. Probably wake up stuffy because I have a cold, like I always do the first week of January. I was planning to make some toast and tea, but maybe I'll walk over to the diner around the corner where they make the best potatoes I've ever eaten and where I have the best chance of becoming a regular (aside from Taco Bell).

"Oh -- do you need to see my ID?" I'll ask, waving it about all languid and coy. 

"Nope!" they'll say as they walk away. "Order up!" Or something else diner-y.

"But how will you know it's my biiirthdaaay?" I'll whisper. So full of wist.

Anyway. Then I'm going to pick up some contact solution because I need it, a Dr. Pepper because I want it, and some Lemonheads because I'm going to the movies (After a greasy lunch at Five Guys. Does my life revolve a little too much around food?). My fifteen-year-old sister was too cool to go see the new Hunger Games with me at Thanksgiving, so tomorrow I'm going to see a matinee showing by myself and THEN we'll see who's cool!

It's still her. She's way cooler than I ever was.**

No matter! After that I really want to find a place where I can just hang out with a whole mess of puppies. There isn't a pet store at the mall, and my "rent birthday puppies" search gave me nothing. Sometimes they have dogs at That Fish Place, but it's really hit or miss. Mostly they just have...fish, which are harder to pet. Plus, then I'd smell fishy for the rest of the day.

Hmmm...

Once I get back home, the real fun starts, by which I mean dinner. I went grocery shopping today with no plan in mind; I just let the aisles speak to me. And you know what they said? They said, "Carrie ... all you need is cheeeese." And I said, "You're right, aisles, but my gall bladder will hate me if I eat only cheese, and remember two years ago when I went to the emergency room because I thought I had appendicitis but really I'd just eaten that poorly during Birthday Week?" And the aisles said, "Oh, yeah ... that sounds embarrassing. Alright, maybe pick up a vegetable or something." 

But I did better than that. I bought mushrooms for escargot-style-mushrooms, blackberries because they seemed reasonably priced, a thing of lettuce, a loaf of French bread and a hunk of brie (naturally), and a miniature lemon meringue pie, just the right size for a birthday girl. Although I forgot to buy birthday candles so I might pop a tea candle in the meringue. We'll see how that goes. 

After dinner it's time to Treat Mah Self even more -- foot bath, wedding magazines, and I'll-say-"Friends"-because-it-seems-more-adult-but-let's-be-honest-I'm-probably-gonna-end-up-watching-Harry-Potter. And, of course, opening the little pile of cards and presents my lovely family and sweetheart sent me. I know at least one of them is a book, which means I'll end the night cozied up in bed reading, happy as can be -- the same way I've ended every other birthday.

So maybe I am twenty-five and don't have much to show for it. At least I've learned how to spend a kick-ass birthday.

*Or stagger in all bloated and hungover, depending how hearty they party. Personally, I'm a work-twice-as-hard kinda lady, but I will most definitely wear my tiara at least until February.

**Incidentally, her birthday was yesterday. HOORAY!!