Confessions, Volume IX: The birthday edition
Well, we’ve arrived at my favorite day of the year, second to Christmas. The day where I can excuse cake for breakfast, fondue for dinner (yessss), and being (slightly) imperious* because… it’s my birthday!
As I celebrate (for at least a week or two) turning 34, I thought I’d get back to a favorite past time (blogging) and share some birthday themed confessions a la Thursday 13:
- There can only be one (best birthday cake flavor). Yellow cake with chocolate frosting. Duh.
- Birthdays are a big deal in my family. Both sets of parents made birthdays mini holidays with favorite foods, prezzies (yes, “prezzies”), and events like movie outings or small parties. Even sisterly animosity took a break many years. As kids, my sister and I would allow the respective birthday girl to sit in the front seat ALL day, instead of the requisite alternating. I believe there was even preferential radio treatment, too.
- I survived birthday treachery. Barely. Yeah Brenda, I’m referring to that one time when I was maybe eight and you were four, and you told me about the tape player I was getting even though you promised to keep it a secret. Ahem.
- First birthday cassette: The Bangles “Different Light.”
- Favorite at-home birthday dinner: BBQ chicken or tacos.
- Worst birthday ever: 25. The details do not bear repeating, but there were major tears over margaritas at Chili’s. The up side? It was when I knew Mr. T would be my forever family.
- Summer birthdays rock! I may have missed in-school celebrations, but birthday swim parties and lazy river floating? Oh yes.
- Best birthday cards: Nobody holds a candle to the thoughtfulness of my dear friend Geeta.
- Best worst birthday cards: My sister, Emily. It’s become a thing to exchange the ugliest cards–think syrupy pink with cats dressed up like princesses. Gloriously awful.
- Big birthdays require big celebrations. Like nearly
drowningcapsizing while kayaking in Alaska for the big 3-0.
- I got kidnapped and stabbed on my 18th birthday. And by kidnapped, I mean picked up by my bestie at the time, blind folded and driven to a dark alley in downtown Sacramento. The stabbing was a surprise belly button piercing at The Exotic Body.
- I turned 26 on my 19th birthday. I hope the statute of limitations has passed for this confession, but maybe the bestie referenced in #11 gave me her cousin’s expired license when I turned 19. Maybe. (For a few years, I was a 26-year old named Angela.)
- I can’t pick a favorite birthday. Shoe shopping with my mom is a favorite. Being spitting distance from Diana Krall at Mountain Winery topped the list for awhile and then we saw Lyle Lovett at the Mondavi Center and a couple years later, Eddie Izzard (CAKE OR DEATH!?). Then again, family parties are my favorite especially that one time Emily gave me an ice cream maker (and my pants never fit again). And of course last year we paid off my brain mortgage on my birthday. So you see, I really can’t decide. I just know it’s awesome to be loved and spoiled so much.
* I may have used the birthday card to get the Turbo Kick instructor to make the class do lunges and squats today. Hey, when you have cake for breakfast…
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