Well, happy birthday to me. I am 29 today, and I will not be making this an annual event. Late-twenties-almost-thirty is just fine with me. Finally old enough not to care, finally old enough not to put up with anyone's garbage. Being young has always seemed to me to be about restrictions so I'm content to be All Grown Up.
It's been quite a year. Last August I was scared, scared, scared. About to leave for England, full of obsessive little plans and overflowing with apology. Now here I am, and I don't even feel like the same person, or rather, I feel like the person who was always deep inside me finally got to stand up and breathe some fresh air.
We went up and saw my mom over the weekend--she dragged out the baby book, of course. Funny to see all the pink IT'S A GIRL!! stuff. My birth announcement had a little pink paper diaper thing, and my mom said, somewhat randomly, 'They had blue ones for boys.' 'And green if you weren't sure?' I suggested. 'No, I bought these after you were born... oh.' Maybe getting it just a little, since she laughed and then told, again, the old stories about how all the old superstitions predicted I'd be a boy. Well, almost, right?
No big plans for today... gotta work, then some Thai food, then out for some drinks. No need to go overboard, on this first birthday where I'm actually pretty much glad I was born, even if it took me almost three decades to figure out that IT'S A BOI!!!