A couple of days after we picked up and moved to another state, I turned 49. I think this is utterly fabulous, because 4 is my favorite number, so 7 times that must be auspicious, right??

I had a perfectly lovely birthday. I took Ken to work, then came home and did about an hour’s worth of freelance work (finished a design job). I briefly talked to my mom, but had to dash out to meet my glorious friend Val for a ramble through the Tualatin River National Wildlife Refuge. We talked about everything from bad book design to Sasquatch scat. We also played Poohsticks and saw a big ol’ slug (nibbling on a flowery twig) and wee little snake. A volunteer with a really, really good telescope let us look through at a bald eagle. (I love the fact that every time I look at a live bald eagle, I totally see Sam the Eagle from the Muppets. He’s like the best designed Muppet ever.) The best part was that when we hugged goodbye, it wasn’t for six months or a year—I can see her again soon! (And, indeed, there are other nature preserves we are planning rambles and hikes through.)

I was starving by that point, so I came home long enough to grab my laptop and pet Grimoire, then headed off to Panera. Once their steak and blue cheese salad had assuaged my hunger, I did about an hour’s worth of freelance work (copyediting), then headed back home. I grabbed a shower and made a cup of tea, but then Ken called for his ride home, and we ended up going from there out for our evening festivities.

There’s a second-run theatre nearby, the Joy Cinema and Pub, that has just one screen, but on Mondays it’s $2 per showing, plus they have hard cider on tap (as well as beer and wine). So we got ciders and popcorn and settled in to see Big Hero 6, which was a lot of fun. Jupiter Ascending and Birdman are both playing there as well, so we may hit them up again this week.

We picked up a gyro and a falafel to share at the next-door falafel place (where we’d eaten before, a few years ago, maybe?), along with a dessert I can’t pronounce, and came home. After we ate, Ken spent time on the phone trying to set up Internet/cable (I’d say he’s spent more than an hour on this already, because aaargh) and with our Realtor who’s selling our house in CA, we rearranged the living room furniture a bit, and watched the Arthur episode “Falafalososphy” with Neil Gaiman, because I was sad that it was my birthday and he still didn’t show up in my falafel.

Ken said my present was either any book I wanted from Powell’s (but I have a gazillion books to give them for credit, although I really do want Neil’s latest collection, Trigger Warning, even though he still did not show up in my goddamn birthday falafel) (not that I’m bitter or anything) (hint: yes I am), or a massage (but my massage therapist is still in Oxnard…) so we shall see. Honestly, we just moved to a place with seasons and greenery; I’m counting that as a win.  🙂

I find myself wondering: why do we celebrate our own births, when we really had little to do with them? Why are we not showering gifts and praise on the mothers who squeezed us out through their hoo-hoos?