I turned 30 years old last week!
Oats woke me at 7 am with breakfast in bed, and in the interest of full disclosure, I feel I should tell you that I did not react well. I wanted to sleep, and told her so rather meanly, then realized that I was being completely horrible.
Which made me cry.
Then it occurred to me that starting off my thirties by wallowing in self-hatred was the kind of thing one might eventually regret… So I mustered some hidden reserves of happy energy, and insisted on driving Oats to work, which she initially declined but then finally accepted, no doubt because I was threatening more tears if she didn’t let me at least try to make amends. Somehow, it all worked out: Oats forgave my earlier meanness, I felt better about myself, she got to work on time, and I eventually reheated my lovingly-prepared breakfast and enjoyed every bite. Yay for being an adult! Or at least trying to change up the script of the little emotional traps that sometimes suck me under.
After I dropped Oats off, I went to a nearby beach. It was pouring rain, but I didn’t mind. Summers here are generally very sunny and dry, which makes the odd rainy day into a bit of a treat. I wore gumboots and my raincoat, threw the ball for Mo, and took in deep breaths of salty sea air. The tide was way out, and the seaweed was quietly rotting on the sand, stinking in a way that I now realize signifies home to me. How would I cope with life on the prairies? I take it for granted, the ocean at my feet and the mountains on the horizon… Which isn’t reason enough to stay here, just a useful thing to realize.
One of the reasons I was so tired on the morning of my birthday was that I’d been out at the bar the night before, drinking whiskey with a couple good folks to commemorate the year that had gone by since our mutual friend’s death. As I’ve written before, I was no longer close with this person at the time of her sudden passing, but she was a big part of my early life in this city. I think about her a lot, and about all that’s changed since she’s been gone. Not to be terribly morbid, but it was really good to spend some quality time reminiscing, on the eve of turning 30.
For the past several years, I’ve hosted big parties for my birthdays. Not this year, though… It just sort of snuck up on me, and I found myself more in the mood for being alone. Most of the day itself, I spent at home, sewing a dress, which was pretty great. The day after my birthday was a Friday, when I usually host pizza dinner for my housemates plus a rotating cast of regulars, and so that became my birthday event. All I had to do was make the pizza ingredients: Oats and Sum and Captain Pestou and Jag did all the cooking, and Oats made an amazing cake! That’s Mo, sculpted from crispy rice treats and covered in chocolate. In case you can’t tell, he’s sitting in a boat.
Speaking of Mo, he’ll be having his own birthday this Saturday… Two years, which seems so amazing. Forget me still feeling like I’m 20: I feel like Mo’s still a tiny puppy.