January feels like the unwelcome roommate that you must have in order to pay rent, instead, January sticks around trying to make all twelve months count. If I could pull a few friend's birthdays and the one where I get to eat black eyed peas, I'd say to hell with it altogether. So, I kicked January out and invited February in as long as it promised to be quick and deliver no snow. Snow still happened. Never trust February. So, today marks the 1st of March and I have high expectations for this month, mainly, of course, because today is my birthday. :)
I've always expected so much out of birthdays. If birthdays were in the Olympics, March 1st would be Lindsey Vonn. Christmas would be the whole USA hockey team (more people, more presents) and January would be the guy who face planted on the downhill ski event. For those of you who did not watch the Olympics and are pissed that I used that as an anology, here is another example. If birthdays were on The Bachelor, March 1st would be Tenley and January would be Vienna, the crossed eyed contestant. (Just get rid of it altogether). If you don't watch the Olympics OR The Bachelor then quit reading this immediately and go back under the rock you've lived under all this time. Me, 'Tenley' and the 'Olympics' not only celebrate on the glorified day, but usually the entire week. Birthday Week (n.)- A week in which a person is born on one day of that week, but uses the "It's My Birthday" card as entitlement to recognize it every single day. For a week. Everyone likes having birthday week.
Birthday week started last Monday when I realized my birth date was in week. Recognizing the holiday is the first step. Birthday dinners, outings at the local bars, and occasional desserts followed as the week progressed. Monday is a crappy day for a holiday but things turned out quite amazing, and I had the whole day to myself.
I've never had a birthday alone. I don't know how to do that. It's like Algebra all over again. Just give me tutors or someone to cheat off of and it's an A+. Give me streamers and 5 friends and it's a party. (You can't have a party without streamers taped to the wall. Or the ceiling fan.) Facebook gave me wishes from friends, but only my checkbook could buy me a Birthday Happy. Birthday Happy- (n.) A certain oversized clutch with sparkles. In this case, blue and green sequins on that bad boy from Forever 21. What an adventure this will be: The Mall Dun Dun Duuuuun.. (in the scariest voice possible.)
Ello, preety lady, can I ask question to you?
"Nope, uh uh, Don't want any."
Don't want ninny? Can I ask you question?
I don't know what you're selling but I don't want it. I don't care how fast it works or how great it smells, I'm not buying your magic cream for FORTY FIVE DOLLARS! (This is a thought not a statement).
You look so yooty-full this day, must be you birthday!
How. Did he know that?
Well, I got past Psychic Sanjuan, now let's venture into Dillard's. Or let's not because the checkout lady is officially stalking me. Every turn I make there she is popping up behind the clothes rack. HELLO! I can't even concentrate on what I think is.. CAN I HELP YOOUU??.. cute because she's staring me down in hopes of a sale. YOU LOOK LIKE A NEON KIND OF GIRL! How do I look neon? LOOK AT THIS BATHING SUIT HERE! Neon, not for me.
Sequined Clutch- Check
A couple laps around that place will wear a girl out. Especially when you're looking for a store that's not there." The guitar store is down the street you stupid, illiterate idiot!!" At least that's what his face said. "A-ha! Genius! You only have 2342387 stores in this stupid mall, why would you put a music store smack dab in the middle of Music City??" At least that's what my face said. On the way out, I grabbed my favorite Frappe Latte even though it's cold as a toilet seat outside. Because, it's my birthday, that's why. The guitar shop ended up being a grocery store, so I TomTom'd the next one. My TomTom is named Richard. And Richard is the dumbest kid in GPS school. (Like me in Algebra). Richard took me 24 miles out of the way to the capital of Nowhere, Smackdabinthemiddleof. There's only one reason I'm telling you this story. Richard may have gotten me lost but I found it. It. Alan. Jackson's. House. Ahhhhhhhhh. I knew he lived in Franklin but unless you have Richard as a guide you would never find it. Turns, curves, railroad tracks, gravel, tunnels for one-car-at-a-time, then there it stood. A shining white shrine. I picked up my jaw, somehow found my way to I-65 and thought about how lucky I was to even run into something like that. I don't even know what I would do if I actually saw him. Maybe follow him home, pull out my "It's My Birthday" card and demand a song on the spot. Ok, I take that back. I caught myself second glancing for blonde locks in the driver's seat of every pimped out Ford pickup I saw on the way back. That guitar shop does not exist, but when I finally got home, flowers had been left on my doorstep and I knew I was a very lucky, blessed birthday girl.
Since the real day was spent alone, I'm spending the rest of the month with people I love. This includes Reba McEntire, George Strait, and Leann Womack on Thursday and everyone in the tri-county area of Greenwood the week following.This year, I'm on the 3 Week Birthday Plan. :) I am so so so lucky to have the best friends, fans, and family in the entire world. Thank you to anyone who sent love my way today. Happy Birthday to me!!