Today marks a very sad day in my life. I no longer have a birthday. Officially, I turn 37 today, but none of that really matters any more. My daughter turns 5 later this week and will have her birthday party today.
Instead of basking in the limelight, I will carry around goodie bags, pass out pizza and make sure no one gets lost in the ball pit.
Happy birthday to me.
My Mom taught me how to ride a bike in the Hutzler’s parking lot at Westview Mall in Catonsville, Md., on a Sunday afternoon. We had the whole place to ourselves because of the old blue laws. We missed the first half of a Baltimore Colts game while we were out there. I think they played the Buffalo Bills or New England Patriots that day.
Everything was perfect. We arrived at the hotel in New Jersey last Sunday with plenty of time to spare before my nephew’s wedding.
We found one of my sibling’s rooms and made plans on where to meet before going to the church.
We enjoyed some of the complimentary microwave popcorn that the hotel provided so we wouldn’t starve before dinner at the reception.
We even got to watch some of an Austin Powers movie while we got dressed. Like I said, everything was perfect.
Until I went to put on my shoes.
One of the great things about a family vacation is the things you learn. Maybe a sibling tells you a secret. Maybe you discover a new place to eat. Or maybe you discover the greatest game in the history of the world.
I started to play cornhole down the beach.
When we bought our house, we chose an in-town location for several reasons. We liked the price. We liked being able to walk downtown. We liked our quiet street. I had one other reason for liking the location. I wouldn’t have to deal with any wild animals. I grew up in the suburbs. We did live near some woods so we had to deal with mice a few times growing up. Other than that, I limited my exposure to animals to visits to the zoo.
It’s not just wild animals. My mother-in-law used to own a couple of horses. Maria took me in the pasture once and I nearly fainted.
I fear a new animal now, but it’s a little smaller than a horse. Actually, it’s a lot smaller than a horse.
We have an opossum visiting our yard.
As I approach the end of my 37th year, I have had an epiphany. I finally realize my true calling. I exist to give people something to laugh at.
Don’t mistake this for a pity party. I’m pretty excited actually. I have slowly come to grips with my ability to make a fool out of myself.
My moment of clarity came 10 days ago when I fell down Federal Hill in Baltimore.
I didn’t actually fall as much as I careened down the top slope of the downtown landmark. Somehow, I got it in my head that I could race a friend to the bottom.
Luckily, she realized the folly of that idea and had a wonderful view from the top as I hurtled out of control to my fate.
Did I mention that all this took place during a department retreat for work and the friends witnessing this exhibition were my co-workers? I sure know how to spice up the day.
We went to a party at a friend’s house a couple of weeks ago. They used to be teachers, and they continue to throw an “End of the School Year” cookout. The party coincides with their oldest child’s ninth birthday. The day after the cookout, they were taking him out for a special birthday dinner.
He got to choose anything he wanted. When I was 9, I would have wanted pizza. Or hamburgers. Or pizza and hamburgers.
He chose sushi.
I had to wrap my mind around the concept of a 9-year-old even being exposed to sushi much less choosing it for a special birthday dinner.
What is happening to this country? Children don’t like sushi. Children don’t know sushi.
Children eat pizza or hamburgers on their birthday. Sushi is completely un-American.
We started a very important stretch of the summer this past week. I really need to stay focused or everything could come crashing down around me. It’s carnival season.
Up until a few years ago, I had never visited any of our local carnivals. Then we had a kid, and I needed to entertain her somehow.
I’m totally hooked. You know those TV shows with parents obsessed with making their kids into sports stars or actors? Well, I’m gonna be a carnival Dad.
I need Bridget to love carnivals and amusement parks. Need.
I read about a research study the other day that has finally determined a question we all have. How late is late? You have a good 10 minutes and 17 seconds before you should call and say you are late. Well, at least that’s according to some British researchers.
They always seem to be so darn polite over there, maybe we could get away with waiting a little longer.
I love this kind of news because I’m not always the most prompt guy in the world. I need to set my clock a little fast sometimes so I don’t get a late start.
But that always backfires because I mentally adjust the time I added whenever I glance at the clock. I don’t know why I even bother.
I read the other day that the French voted against the proposed European constitution. The Dutch have also voted against it, but the first move pretty much doomed the document from ever being adopted. At first, I wanted to rail against the French for being stupid and ruining everything for the rest of the world, just like they always do. Then I realized that the problem didn’t lie with the French. Well, not the whole problem because we can pretty much assign a little bit of blame for everything to the French.
That’s what makes them the French.