A fellow blogger whose name is Jordon and whose blog is more consistent, more diverse, and more Canadian, has an annual practice of blogging his birthday. As an act of sheer imitation (stealing), I would like to do the same. As I enter into year #35, I realize there are certain things I really enjoy looking back on, and birthdays are usually full of good times and cake and presents and awkward songs that everyone in the room but you sings. So awkward. Whose idea was that? If it had a parenthetical title like 867-5309 (Jenny) it would be called Happy Birthday (Annual Face Reddening). The best birthday present would be making it so that I get to sing awkwardly at everyone else, maintaining unblinking eye contact and smiling through every verse. Every verse. Every verse, you ask? Yes. I will make them up as I go, utilizing a dynamic rhyme scheme that builds like a house of cards — stable in every way.
Birthday: Mirthday: Girthday: Hershey: Mercy: Merci: Thank You: Stank Poo: Doobie Doobie: doo.
Since that idea has now fizzled, I move back to my original thesis statement: I will now write my birthday bLog.
Anyway, it’s already 9:48am Eastern Time, so let me get us all up to date:
6am: Woke up, like normal. Immediately started checking the latest forecast to see if the Fall Blizzard would be a reality. All signs point to yes. On to reading, writing, prayer, including the prayer that school stays open tomorrow. Prayed so fervently that I fell back asleep for a minute.
7:15am: Toast & Eggs for the family. TV on, WKZO radio on. Thought to myself “you can’t play a weather forecast that was recorded yesterday, mates.” I and the other 0.5% of the population care about this, all former DJ’s or DJ wanna bees. I am both, I suppose.
7:25am: Hugs for Lexi as she hops on the bus. She is grumpy, probably because it’s Monday and she takes on a Garfield persona.
7:45am: Emily gives me a radio-controlled helicopter for my birthday. This is one of those “I want it, but I also need socks, so get me socks” presents. She got me what I wanted, not what I needed. I feel 12 again, and it is glorious.
8:15am: Walked Mac to school. He asked me if people come from spores. Investigative questioning — where does this come from?? — only leads to more confusion. I only hope he felt respected and that I didn’t make it worse. Conversation drifted to whether Squids are attracted to Insects. This is interesting.
8:30am: Begin working on stuff for this coming Sunday. Should sermon include something about Squids? Further consideration; no. Emails proceed.
9:00am: Still haven’t tried the radio controlled helicopter, but that’s ok, because Zac wants to play drums. I oblige, especially now that I’m a Dad and things that seem to be for his enjoyment are often just as much for my own.
9:15am: Emails! So many Emails! Such a timesaver…
9:30am: Talking with Emily re: The week ahead. Still haven’t tried that radio controlled helicopter. Has been charging for 3x longer than designed. Should be fine.
10:30am: in the office to plan for the week ahead. The snow comes even earlier than promised. The sun shines, but no snowbow is present. Maybe next year…
12:00pm: Putting together a service order for a funeral. A sad but necessary part of life. I am honored to be a small part of caring for a family in their time of loss. I try to become a jr. biographer if I can, and these notes on the person we’re celebrating will be most helpful.
12:35pm: picked up dry cleaning. What is dry cleaning? Jerry Seinfeld says it’s when you use your fingernail to scratch off a chunk of food on your shirt.
My suit is well scratched.
In fact , it’s my birthday suit.
1:00pm: We’re off to Grand Rapids to get Emily to her Jerry Ford Plane, next stop Flaridha. For such a long drive up US131, the weather is perfect (6 months ago, by comparison). Today, however, is one of those days where the weather does something we don’t expect it to. Instead of 50 degrees, it feels like 7. Degrees. And the snow, OH the snow. Like Bigfoot, you only hear about it and doubt until you’ve seen it — and I’ve seen Lake Effect Snow. It is as real as the legends of Bigfoot, Loch Ness, and Richard Simmons combined. How do you like us nahhhow? ask the Great Lakes. Pure Michigan WHITEOUT.
3:57pm: Home after a proper field test and failure of my windshield washer sprayers. If it’s under 30 or above 40, they’ll seize up on ‘ya is just one of the many descriptors I’ll use in the CraigList add.
4:15pm: All children are now home and accounted for. The mail has arrived. I am now old enough to get a card that pokes fun at my age. “Happy 29th Again”. Like my hairline, irony has receded into reality.
4:16pm: Realized I have now been uninvited from the table of the most powerful demographic (18-34). No one in marketing cares what I think anymore. Counting the days until my AARP membership comes in the mail… wait. It’s here. (I know this implies a secondary mail delivery on the same day)
6:26pm: Dinner. Salsa makes it even better.
7:02pm: Homework with the boys. The name of the six-sided shape is a polygon (Kindergarten); an object pronoun is a uh… polygon (3rd grade, incorrect).
7:30pm: Brush Lexi’s hair, which she does not enjoy, partly because of the sensitivities that come with autism, partly because I don’t really know how hair works. She’s happy to jump into her bed while the boys and I play baseball with a crumpled up piece of paper and a novelty Tigers bat.
8:14pm: Boys, this show is called The Andy Griffith Show.
8:19pm: Detailed explanation of black and white television. Being 35, I can at least give some credible rerun witness.
8:30pm: All Children
in bed putting up a solid case for a snow day.
8:40pm: Mario proceeds to circumvent Bowzer. I proceed to circumvent household chaos.
8:47pm: Work stuff
10:14pm: Bedtime finally achieved following a bell-curve of child activity: reanimation, peak, calming.
10:15pm: Back to work
11:59pm: sleepy. 35 will be just fine.