Happy Birthday to me

I love birthdays. Your birthday, my birthday, George Washington’s birthday—any reason to celebrate is good with me! You know me, always up for a party.

This year, however, my birthday wasn’t much of a party. I’ve been dreadfully sick with a respiratory virus and bronchitis that has been casing big problems with my asthma for over two weeks now. The medicine I’m taking for the asthma actually makes me feel worse than I did before I started taking it, so I haven’t been doing anything I don’t absolutely have to. Therefore, I had planned a very quiet birthday Saturday. Unfortunately, earlier in the week David’s Uncle Virg passed away due to chronic heart problems and the funeral fell on Saturday morning. So, we started my 37th birthday by mourning the loss of a very sweet and wonderful man. It was crummy and rainy, but the service was lovely and it really captured his spirit. I spent the rest of the day at home, making salsa, tequila-lime chicken and chili-steak taco meat for my birthday supper. I did get a birthday call from my dad and that was somewhat of a miracle. Not because I didn’t think he’d call, but because he called from Luckenbach, Texas. They have a cell tower in Luckenbach? Bid and Erin came over and we had supper then walked down to the Bristol Homecoming to watch the fireworks and carnies. Both were equally entertaining. If you’re ever feeling low on self-esteem, I recommend a trip to your local county fair or carnival. You’ll feel right back on top of the pinnacle of society. After Erin and I munched down most of our elephant ears and the last firework had burnt permanent spots into our retinas, we walked back home. I loaded up with the multiple medications that keep me breathing and passed out from exhaustion. I woke up Sunday with what felt like a hangover. I am only 37. Surely it can’t be this bad already?

Today I had my second birthday party. My co-workers cooked up a lively celebration for me. Knowing my unnatural aversion to feet, every year they find new ways to cruelly torture me with podiatric kitsch. They are such a kind bunch. This year I got a homemade card covered with foot photos, a rubber squeaky foot toy and (most impressively) a flip-flop piñata. After resting up yesterday, I do have a bit more energy and was able to smack the crap out of that flip-flop (I will have a video to post very soon). Beating something to a pulp gave me back a little more faith that I will recover from this illness to feel normal again and maybe it’s not so bad being 37.

Today Anna-Marie is flying in from LA to visit for the week and Friday night Renea is coming down. So that will be my third birthday party. I’ve got my fingers crossed that by then I’ll be much closer to being well so we can do our usual girls night out: Hacienda for dinner then Harrison Landing to hang out with Renea’s brother Pat, talking and catching up until the wee hours. I’m not sure how wee the hours will be this time, but we’ll have fun nonetheless cuz we’re BFFs and that’s how we roll! And, since I’m the youngest of the three, I may be able to appreciate my age even more by thinking that Anna-Marie will be 38 in September and Renea will be 38 in October. Hee!

As Dad pointed out, from Luckenbach, I am now exactly half his age. From this year on, I’m catching up to him. So I guess I’m gonna have to make a serious effort for every birthday from here forward to be the best that’s ever been. Next year: Showbiz Pizza Place! You’re all invited.

Love, K10