Birthday Diary

The Morning
My actual birth "moment" passed unacknowledged, at 1:25 this morning. But for the true start of my birthday, I woke to the tweets of two birds calling and responding to one another. It wasn't the cacophony of true spring, but rather a premonition of the season ahead.

Jake jumped on the bed when he heard me starting to stir and curled up next to me. He promptly started to snore in his signature doggy style (which is a half-growl, half-nasal wheezing). We cuddled for a few, then I rolled out of bed and began to crack open the mini blinds.

Everything is grey. The outside thermometer reads 41 degrees, tolerable but not inviting. I suited up to take Jake for his walk and was greeted with cold, sharp, tiny yet light drops of rain the moment we stepped out. It didn't stop us from walking the full way around the neighborhood, probably a half hour walk roundtrip. About three-quarters of the way into it, though, my nose was running and my lips were numb, and Jake had started to slow his walk. It seemed like we might never get back into the warmth of the apartment. I admit, that's rather dramatic, but it sure felt cold and raw and as though I'd rather be anywhere than there.

When we got back, I made Jake wait in the hall while I grabbed a towel. He wasn't happy about that -- both waiting in the hall and being dried off, but he stood patiently enough and was rewarded with breakfast. He's now snoozing in his bed, happy as a clam.

Then breakfast for me -- a Bays English Muffin, introduced to me by a kindred spirit, and now a regular part of my routine. That kindred spirit and I connected with a quick chat, in fact, as I enjoyed my breakfast. That's always re-energizing, and has reset my morning on a more positive note.

Now it's time to get moving, as I've a busy day ahead. Off to the shower. More later...


Mid-Morning
After getting ready, I shuffled Jake into the car, and off we went to the groomer's. He was the first one in there, but as we were checking in, two cats also arrived. Yowling something fierce. Poor Jake was overwhelmed by being their and the raucous, and to top it off, the groomer assessed him as matted (which isn't true) so who knows, he may come out of this shaved...

I hopped over to Target and spent an hour there wandering around. Looked at a lot of things -- some interesting vases and potpourri for decorating, some put-it-together-yourself furniture (TV console and bookcase), some baby things for my niece, various kitchen things, and more. While I was there, I got two Happy Birthday texts. Struck me as odd, frankly, especially since I'd expect one of those greetings to have been a phone call. But the text allows "send and forget" without the obligation of engaging in conversation. I could go on and on about that, but won't.

Despite contemplating spending hundreds of dollars on stuff I frankly didn't really even need, I walked away having bought three items: a lightweight stockpot (so I can cook Beef Burgundy in my cast iron pot and make mashed potatoes as an accompaniment for the party I'm hosting later with my family), 4 plastic cups (sadly, made in China), and a 3-piece outfit for my 6-month-old niece, Haley.

Pulling into my parking spot at the apartment, I dialed my former mother-in-law's number. She and I share the same birthday (or rather, I was born on her birthday...), and despite how our relationship has changed this past year, I felt it was the right thing to do to call and wish her happy birthday. I expected to get the machine, having been told she'd be at the casino celebrating. That was not the case and I got her live. It's hard to explain the shock and surprise I heard in her voice, and I got the impression she wasn't planning a similar type of outreach to me. I deliberately drove the conversation -- happy birthday, how are you? how are you celebrating today (since you appear to be home...), how was your birthday dinner last night? and so on. It was civil enough, but I didn't want to linger. That I made the call at all is a big step for me.

That behind me, I sprinted from my car to my building. It's raining in earnest, now, dripping from the eaves and puddling on the pavement. My task now is to pick up my apartment, vacuum and clean, and prep for dinner. The Beef Burgundy recipe is one handed down to me by my mother, and something I know everyone in the family will eat. It is my first time making it, though, so we'll see how that goes. I'm serving mashed potatoes (as I mentioned) and fresh green beans with it to round out the meal. I have biscuits I can throw in the oven if needed, and my mother's bringing the Carvel ice cream cake I requested. The only thing I don't have for the party is balloons...

The neighbors above are stomping around and talking now, so I guess it's safe to vacuum.

The Afternoon
After vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom and kitchen, most of the afternoon was spent preparing dinner. I have to say there's nothing wrong with a recipe that starts with 6 slices of bacon, as the Beef Burgundy recipe does. I used my green cast iron pot, which I just adore, and found the process of making this beef stew-like dish calming and rewarding. The steps were simple and straightforward, and the timing between them allowed me to be deliberate about each one, so I wasn't rushing between steps. I also managed to nosh on some bread and cheese during the process, which served as my lunch.

I only had to make one phone call to my mom to clarify a step in the recipe, and only made one in-process trip to the store (for more onions). As anyone who cooks regularly can attest, you cannot underestimate the value of a good, sharp knife. I'll need to upgrade mine in the not-too-distant future, likely. They're passable for the moment, however.

Prepping and cooking took me straight through the afternoon, and I zipped out quickly to pick up Jake from the groomers. They put a blue bow in his hair, poor guy. He smells good now, and happily, he emerged unshaven.

Then, the family arrived and the standard chaos ensued.

Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves and ate well. We played Cranium after dinner, though I think people were just humoring me as the birthday girl. We abandoned the formal roll-and-move-around-the-board approach for a more impromptu approach of passing the "Star Performer" cards around the table.

The Evening
I helped pack everyone up just about a half hour ago, and set to finishing up the dishes, most of which fit in the dishwasher. I put on some tunes (Dave Matthews, "Everyday" album) and sat down to finish up this post.

Reflecting back on the day, I anticipated what I'd need to do to keep my spirits up and feel I was successful with that. There are probably a handful of things I'd have liked to have been different, so overall, I'd say it was a happy birthday.

Here's to another year older, another year wiser, and another year happier.

A life like a diamond

It is stories like this that bring perspective to my own challenges.

Poem: Glimpses

a sliver
of what could be
like passing shadows
behind a hallway door
left slightly ajar
evoking quivers
of anticipation
at what at once is known
and yet remains
undiscovered

--ACP 3/25/09

Poem: 11:11

The second hand sweeps 'round
and urges the minute hand forward with
consistent, repetitive beats.
Hold your breath. Any second now...
Make a wish.

-ACP 3/19/09

Precious Things

All those weeks spent preparing, clearing out closets, packing and taping up boxes, creating lists of what not to forget...and the one thing in the world I could never forget wanted to make sure I didn't leave him behind.

Stuff

Not so long ago, I had a proliferance of "stuff". A fully furnished three-bedroom house for two people, a basement full of boxes that had never been unpacked from the previous move, a garage well organized but still housing instruments for fixing and pruning and tuning.

Three sets of dishes, stemware used maybe a half dozen times, two full sets of mixing bowls, two crystal punch bowls (never used), more cooking utensils than one could realistically ever use, and on and on and on.

Don't think I wasn't complicit in the collection of this stuff. It was simply part of the path. What next was a larger house, with more stuff, a more expensive car, more and more and more.

The collecting, however, wasn't satisfying. I'd been lulled into thinking that once I got a promotion and was pulling in a bigger salary, I could afford the stuff that would complete the picture. If I just had my BMW, I'd be happy. Or once I built a house, I'd feel content and satisfied. Or once I got to retirement and saved all my money, I could do what I really wanted to do.

Mostly this meant that I was waiting.

And in the meantime, I self-soothed by surrounding myself with things I'd bought into believing would dampen the pain, pass the time, or compensate for feeling lonely or abandoned or just not good enough.

Circumstances changed, and I had two opportunities to evaluate my stuff. One, moving out of my house to a furnished apartment; two, selling the house.

In the first case, I carefully considered what I needed and took very little -- some clothes, some shoes, some comforts (a stereo, the DVD player, my dog Jake). I think I had one or two books, which for me, can be about a weekend's worth of reading. The decisions about stuff were not just about what I needed to be comfortable or surrounded by familiar things; it was about a larger evaluation of needs -- emotional, mental, spiritual and physical.

Selling the house meant needing to clear it of the stuff that'd been collecting there. The drivers behind the sale were deeply emotional, and I made it a point to make the process as unemotional as possible. Only a few items made a short list of things I wanted, and a few of those were negotiated away (amicably, I might add). The rest was scrutinized carefully -- if only to determine whether to sell, donate, or trash. But it was all very mechanical. (Though the stories about the ensuing yard sale could consume several more posts...)

Now, faced with another move, this time to an empty apartment, I'm bombarded with decision after decision about stuff. Because, truth is, there are things I need. However, I'm spending more of my time these days thinking about how to make possible the experiences I want to have, exploring relationships I want to develop, and understanding what motivates me.

I have no doubt that it'll be easy to slip back into collecting stuff in an attempt to define myself. The trick is, I think, to define myself first.