In my younger years, it was a big deal to celebrate my birthday with big parties and lots of friends. Mardstock anyone? A barn party with a live band?
But the older I get, the more I want to hunker down. Eat cupcakes with Truman and fall asleep on the couch.
In a strange turn of events, Jason is in Seattle for most of the weekend painting my colleague’s mother’s condo. With our car. Which means I am in a small house, with a toddler, and no escape hatch to the playground.
So I went to the craft store and the grocery store and stocked up. I am wearing my Al’s Tarantula Ranch t-shirt. And if you know about that shirt, you can also imagine the sweatpants and big blue glasses I am wearing.
We are going to carve pumpkins and pop popcorn and eat chips for dinner. We are going to eat eggs bennies for breakfast (or maybe lunch) and make a chocolate cake from scratch. And I might just stand in my kitchen eating fancy dips and crackers and I might just let Truman watch a Halloween movie.
Instead of feeling old and boring, it feels like a dream weekend. I am not sure if that is sad or if that is the pleasure of getting older – being free to do what you want, even when what you want is nothing.