Just another birthday...again.
It's early in the morning and I wake up,wondering in that semi-conscious state, am I sure I'm going to be be 64? A lot of my friends are in their 50's. Maybe I'm turning 55. How can this be? Don't panic. We've got this. I'm going to be 64. The Beatles warned me when I was a teenager. It's ok. Really it's ok. Remember your fav mentor, Beatrice Wood lived to be 105 and didn't loose her libido till she turned 102. And what about your wise Native American friend, Peggy. She is 88 now and is heading for her fathers age when he died at 105. 105. Maybe 105 is the new 70. Maybe.
Yes it will be 64. I'd planned on making a big event out of it. Carpe diem. Carpet diem! Well, I got to tired and had to scale back. I attended an incredibly wonderful painting workshop where the teacher worked us to death. 5 days of super focus, not allowing us to talk to others except at lunch so we could really focus. Everyday, at the end I drug my sorry but proud worn out ass to the motel and fell in the bed until I got the energy to go eat at some fabulous Santa Fe restaurant where I was able to drink appropriately and lift my fork to my face.
I looked in the mirror and saw a little more crepe skin hanging under my chin. I saw a few funny paper looking areas on my arms, funny looking skin I could pull on and it stretched a bit and went back into place. Oh surely it is just dehydration, not that old lady who jumps in front of me sometimes when I comb my hair.
So, reality struck and I decided to scale back my party for starters. Just have fun. Don't overdue it like I usually do. Make it fun. Make it small. All my friends warn me all the time to slow down. Wink wink. At least when I walk I don't hear. Step clank clank yet, while holding onto an aluminum easy to lift walker thing with bright yellow tennis balls.
So I lie in bed before the sun comes up thinking, thinking those cloudy early morning thoughts. It is the time I usually think about fun projects to try today and plan artistically. But nooooo. Today I keep wondering, wondering about time. Perhaps it stems not only from my more reasonable birthday plans, as i hear the "slow down Bessie," warnings. But also because I've been doing so much naval gazing making these damn 64 pots representing each year of my life and trying to remember something about each year. Who thought of this idea anyway? Oh, the person accepting time passing, me.
I remember other birthdays. Why can I only remember the weird ones? I know I had good birthdays as well. I certainly remember good cake, the preferred base of my food pyramid.
When I turned about nine, in southern Indiana along the Ohio river, I remember planning a fun birthday party. I wanted a festive day on a hot summer afternoon in July. There was the neatest thing that had just come about. Bakeries were sticking Barbie like dolls in the middle of cakes. How cool was that! Icing for a dress. A beautiful "young" girl stuffed in a yummy cake with sticky sugary lickable icing all around her plastic naked body. Every girls pubescent what's next cake dream. Could this be pre-sexual thinking, there in the middle of my birthday table? Someday could I be pretty enough to be the girl popping out of the cake? Anyway, the party was a flop. Hardly anyone came was how I saw it. Such a beautiful table all decorated in ribbons with napkins and paper plates. Only my brothers and a close friend or two came. It was a hot summer day. Everyone was on vacation. Dang.
In my mid 30's I had an opposite experience. I was working at a pottery shop in Austin, Texas and noticed around lunch, friends kept showing up. They were hanging out longer than usual and some even brought food."What a coincidence" I thought. All these friends are Showing up for lunch." They kept coming. Finally someone told me it was a surprise birthday party. They whipped out a cake and we celebrated. I thought I was getting old. I was. Lol
On a lighter note, only a few years ago I had a very fun birthday and it didn't take much. I was in Santa Fe with friends. Around lunch time I was visiting the Tesuque pueblo. I'd love to have a margarita for my birthday I proudly announced. My husband poo pooed the idea. "You really shouldn't" he declared and that popped my bubble. We were traveling with a couple friends and later that night when our spouses wanted to read, my playground kinda friend said let's go find a margarita and we had to look hard to find a bar open. We did. And the bartender added a shot at the end for my birthday. That was even better than the doll coming out of the cake when I was 9. Santa Fe being the aware of late night drinkers needs, suggested we walk a block to have breakfast before driving away. It was delicious and while we were there, a man pulled up on his bicycle wearing a big plastic pig head. After that I looked for pig head man and usually spotted him while visiting Santa Fe. I saw him riding on St. Micheals rd later and in Whole Foods Market as well. He has become a symbol of a good time for me.
So now npr is playing from my husbands side of the bed. The distractions of the day begin. I'm losing those special early morning thoughts and I'm still 63 till Friday.
Hang on lady. Let the party begin. Bird by bird. Carpet diem. I'm as old as I've ever been and as young as I'll ever be. Just breath and stay I the moment and hang out sometimes with people 10 years older than I am if i need to feel younger. It's gonna be ok. Age is just a number, kinda.