3 plus 2

I actually don't mind getting older... probably because my birthdays are always so awesome they're worth living for.

This year things got started on May 9, which was a celebration of Renee's birthday, my birthday and Mother's Day rolled into one. Renee was just about the cutest 3-year-old I've ever seen opening her presents, so even though celebrating with her meant sharing the spotlight, she provided entertainment that was worth it. And it's always fun to share your birthday with Mother's Day, since in a twisty way it's also your mom's birthday... her giving birth day.

Sharing my birthday meant we got to have two cakes... a chocolate one for Renee (that said Happy Birt because Bad Mommy Shannon ran out of icing) and a vegan carrot cake for me. I hate to say it, but I think I may like sharing my birthday.

My birthday week was pretty good. I did a little bit of work, played volleyball, cleaned the house, and then on Friday, I met up with Ruble and Steve for giant-sized birthday Red Stripes.

Saturday was a little lame, since I spent the day in a nursing home giving bed baths and feeding old people, but it was also waaaaayyyy better than the Saturdays I've been having, where I sit in a room with people whose development is questionable and whose accents border on unintelligible. Sunday, my actual birthday, was a little more of the same as Saturday, but it was also THE LAST DAY of nurse aid torture.

I wanted to go to the drive-in for my birthday, but it started raining so we had to do a change of plans. I was stumped. All my favorite restaurants are closed on Sundays, but Mack called and found out that the new Dudley's on Short Street was open. Thank god.

We met Leigh and Nash and ate some of the best pan-fried snapper in the world. It was served over some magical greens and craveable beans and I basically licked that plate clean.

Just as we were sucking down the last of our mojitos, the waitress brought down a carrot cake that Leigh had brought... complete with a small forest fire on top. I saw her coming because the flames caught the corner of my eye and I thought there was some sort of disaster headed our direction. The heat coming off that thing actually made me sweat in the short time it took for my dinner mates to serenade me with Happy Birthday.

But in that small moment, with 32 candles blazing in front of my face and a smile wiped across it that overwrote any essence of cool I was trying to project, I accidentally achieved birthday euphoria.

It seriously felt like those people on Intervention who talk about feeling a rush when they put the needle in their arm.

All the voicemail singing, all the Facebook love (some of it from people I didn't think really even knew me), all the special dates, all the cheers and good food and laughs. If you've gotta be addicted to something, birthdays are it.

3 to the 1

For my 31st birthday (a little aside: when I was 11 I really thought I'd have my shit waaayyyy more together at 31 than I actually do), we had a little vegetarian cookout with family and friends. It wasn't the craziest birthday I've ever had or the most memorable, but it was definitely one of the most special so far.

It's been a while since I've had my people around on my birthday, and to have so many of them, some I hadn't seen in years, crammed into our tiny kitchen and singing happy birthday, well, it just makes me teary to think about it. I think some people call this feeling gratitude, but since I'm made of spikes and nails and iron, I'm going to call it awesomeness.

My friend Nash was there with a gigantic fisheye lens and he caught the moment I was aglow with feeling that awesomeness. If 31 was this good, I can't wait to see what you people make 40 feel like.