Well, friends, it’s now technically less than 1 month until my b-day. A glorious 29 years on the planet. Aside from overly self-conscious bids for reassurance about my age, I’m kind of stoked. I really enjoy my birthday. I like to write letters to myself, little notes to remind me what I was excited or worried or just thinking about at that point in my life. I like to draw up lists of goals for the next year. I like to reflect on the past one.
I like to get presents and eat a lot of cake.
I mean, let’s be real.
One of the funny things about growing up, though: the things you want are no longer sold in stores for the most part. I don’t remember ever being let down on my birthday by a shortage of dolls or books or Popples (remember those?!?!). But it takes more creativity now to work up a good old case of avaricious longing.
When I really let myself go on a real daydream binge, I generally drift to thoughts of:
and definitely a little progress in the world of these:
and maybe also a pair of these:
That would pretty much cover the bases, I think.
None of which is exactly birthday material—ok, except maybe for the pug, but last night’s dream to the contrary (where a new, really annoying neighbor moved in next door with a German Shepherd and a chimpanzee. No lie, Carl told me we were going to give it a week before moving), we can’t have a dog at our complex. Even the pugalicious one must wait.
Not that we’re not working on things.
I do have my perpetual scribbling, and Carl has started working out the financial side of the home ownership thing, and I’ve got the details on a few pug breeders. But, well. Houses take time, and literary agents are a tough crowd, and if I’ve learned something over the last year it’s that babies are not always as easy to manufacture as well-meaning youth leaders would have you believe, and…
Well, you know.
Generally somewhere between the stuff we have and the stuff we want.
And even after sitting here for an hour or so trying to come up with a good list to give Carl (who has probably asked me half a dozen times already what I want (sweet man)), all I’ve really ended up deciding is that I’m kind of lucky. I mean, I can ALWAYS use a few key scrapbooking supplies, and there will always be a pair of shoes beckoning, but when you think about it…
We all have our lovely stuff, don’t we? Our space to breathe and our quiet cups of coffee. Our friendships and—sometimes—our cosy counterparts. And it’s nice. Not perfect, you know, but nice.
I’m feeling pretty blessed.
Although, if you have a favorite home decor/arts and crafts/lovely things website, DO let me know. My wishlist could use some rounding.