Straight in at 37

Today is my birthday.  I am 37 years old.  I am chagrined to say so only because 36 sounded so much riper, so much more juicy-prime-of-womanhood than 37 does.  But putting aesthetics aside, this is the first birthday I've faced since the start of my blog that I'm not longing for something that felt unattainable, and that seems well worth celebrating.

Please help me welcome 37 by telling me at least one of the following things:

1. What was the best or worst birthday gift you've ever received?  (My worst was a shovel, given by my boyfriend the year I turned 20.  Swear to God.  I should have brained the bastard with it and then left his remains in an unmarked grave.  In fact...maybe...I...did.)
2. How do I get Charlie to stop talking with quite so much gusto about the "little tiny hole a doctor cut in your belly with a very sharp knife when I was born"?  It is certainly too late to change my story — when he asked me whether he grew inside me, and then followed up with questions about how he got out, I answered with perfect simplicity and candor, but at this point I'm sort of sorry I didn't tell him he sauntered through the door instead of climbing out the window like a thief in the goddamned night.  I honestly think I would rather hear him twitter about my wondrous, wondrous vagina in front of horrified strangers than treat them to his bloodthirsty version of the birds and the bees.  You know, the hook-beaked birds of prey and the Africanized honeybees.
3. What don't I get about Facebook?  So far I have pusillanimously avoided playing Scrabble with a self-professed crossword fiend; swapped unpardonable limericks about a horrifying medical condition with a high-school friend; and repeatedly called Tertia an asshole in front of her friends, co-workers, and perhaps — who knows? — even her mother.  All very nice, but I am not precisely sure how it is supposed to transform my life.  Is there something I'm missing?  Because I can call Tertia names anywhere.  That's why I invented the Internet.

Something else worth celebrating: I've hit the 15-week mark.  Why, I'm halfway to beating my previous record for ongoing gestation!  Go, Team Belly-Slashing Vulturebees!

Posted by Julie at 09:46:44 PM

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Straight in at 37

Today is my birthday.  I am 37 years old.  I am chagrined to say so only because 36 sounded so much riper, so much more juicy-prime-of-womanhood than 37 does.  But putting aesthetics aside, this is the first birthday I've faced since the start of my blog that I'm not longing for something that felt unattainable, and that seems well worth celebrating.

Please help me welcome 37 by telling me at least one of the following things:

1. What was the best or worst birthday gift you've ever received?  (My worst was a shovel, given by my boyfriend the year I turned 20.  Swear to God.  I should have brained the bastard with it and then left his remains in an unmarked grave.  In fact...maybe...I...did.)
2. How do I get Charlie to stop talking with quite so much gusto about the "little tiny hole a doctor cut in your belly with a very sharp knife when I was born"?  It is certainly too late to change my story — when he asked me whether he grew inside me, and then followed up with questions about how he got out, I answered with perfect simplicity and candor, but at this point I'm sort of sorry I didn't tell him he sauntered through the door instead of climbing out the window like a thief in the goddamned night.  I honestly think I would rather hear him twitter about my wondrous, wondrous vagina in front of horrified strangers than treat them to his bloodthirsty version of the birds and the bees.  You know, the hook-beaked birds of prey and the Africanized honeybees.
3. What don't I get about Facebook?  So far I have pusillanimously avoided playing Scrabble with a self-professed crossword fiend; swapped unpardonable limericks about a horrifying medical condition with a high-school friend; and repeatedly called Tertia an asshole in front of her friends, co-workers, and perhaps — who knows? — even her mother.  All very nice, but I am not precisely sure how it is supposed to transform my life.  Is there something I'm missing?  Because I can call Tertia names anywhere.  That's why I invented the Internet.

Something else worth celebrating: I've hit the 15-week mark.  Why, I'm halfway to beating my previous record for ongoing gestation!  Go, Team Belly-Slashing Vulturebees!