What is there really to say about turning 33? I guess I’m now smack dab in the middle of my early thirties, which feels like a really specific place to be, not quite mid-thirties though definitely now thirty-something, as one might describe me. The thing is, my face certainly didn’t get the memo that I was turning 33 last weekend, as evidenced by the enormous zit that cropped up on my chin. Oh, I thought the memo said 13, not 33. My bad.
I have no idea how I celebrated turning 13, but I do know how I celebrated my 33rd birthday. At some point, around 7 p.m. on Saturday, my actual birthday, our new house was filled with at least a dozen people, small and tall, producing a cacophony of laughter and pitter-patter on the staircase, and it was that moment that I felt really warm. Yes, warm because there were a lot of bodies in our house filling their plates with tacos, but also warmed by the feeling that we have a lot of great friends.
Friends who’ll drive two-plus hours from the mountains east and bring us silly symbolic pumpkins and red velvet cupcakes. Friends who’ll dress up in animal print socks and dance beside me to Gangnam Style. Friends who’ll bring us wine and chocolate, and mingle with other friends who’ll discuss comic books and graphic novels and fantasy characters as if they’re real. Friends whose children my child so very much looks forward to seeing, to showing them his brand new room that is upstairs! Friends who’ll help with the food, and friends who’ll do all the dishes.
All in all, I had a lovely birthday last weekend. Not only was I spoiled with wonderful gifts — a macro lens for my new(ish) Sony NEX (thanks, Roth and Rowan!), a Roku box for our bedroom (thanks, Mom and BP!), a gift card from Amazon (thanks, Dad and Loretta!), cash (thanks, Laurel and Manny!) and more! — I got to be surrounded by the aforementioned awesome friends, which was really all I wanted.
Cupcakes were nice, too.