Sixteen Candles…and Counting

Another birthday has rolled in for me; another day to celebrate life and assess what I’m doing with it. (Some Lull readers may remember that my family surprised me this year with an earlier summer birthday, but today it’s authentic. Today I’m older.)

Just in time for my annual assessment, by way of Mary Oliver’s A Thousand Mornings, comes this wisdom—which we would all do well to take to heart:

“The life that I could still live, I should live, and the thoughts that I could still think, I should think.”
—C. G. Jung

[Photo by Robert Doisneau.]

The Early Bird Gets the…

In late June, a large box arrived in the mail with a warning: Do NOT open ’til July 4th!

The box was from my mother, who made a big deal of most holidays—gifts not only for Christmas, but also for pre-Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Easter, and Halloween. This was a first for Independence Day, though.

But I was wrong. My mother’s brainstorm was to separate the birthdays of her daughter (Christmas Eve) and son-in-law (Boxing Day) from the holiday crush. As a child, I longed to have a summer birthday largely because I wanted to hold an outdoor scavenger hunt. However, Mother held fast to the official birth date. Until now.

Now she saw the benefits of shifting the celebration: She didn’t have to shop during the holiday frenzy, she could find colorful items that weren’t red or green, and we wouldn’t be getting yet another sweater. Now she could give her daughter what was asked for long ago. After all, there was precedence and a track record: A family friend had for decades celebrated his December 24th birthday on June 24th without incident. Plus, this shift felt tinglingly subversive.

Mother promised the early celebration wouldn’t affect our ages. We wouldn’t be getting older earlier or advance in age twice in one year. Nope, that numbers game occurred only on our real birthdays.

All good. Until now.

Not that what I’m about to say isn’t good; it just strikes me as curious. We’re celebrating Christmas tomorrow.

That’s right. We knocked off the 2 in December 25th and are just going for the 5th this year.

Actually, there’s a good reason for this craziness: Each member of my family lives several states away from one another and we rarely see each other. This week, my sister is visiting my mother and hatched a plan to meet with us halfway between the Land of Lincoln and the Bluegrass. And since it’s so close to Christmas, why not celebrate while we’re together?

Why not, indeed?

So tomorrow I’m headed for Story. You know—near Gnaw Bone and not far from Bean Blossom? Indiana, that is.

Ho Ho Ho…

[I’m hoping for a turtle on wheels like the one on the postcard.]

I Dream of…

Scattered about this blog are references to one of my grandmothers. She’s pictured here in a photograph I’m pretty sure she never wanted to share with anyone. She NEVER let anyone see her unless she’d styled her hair and makeup for the day. She didn’t mind you seeing her in her robe, but she had to “have her face on.”

I like this pic largely for its naturalness. My grandmother isn’t posing for the photographer.

I also like it because it’s my grandmother at an age of dreams instead of memories. Everything’s possible in this moment. She hasn’t yet created all the stories of her life.

Today would have been her 100th birthday, an age she vehemently opposed reaching.

Happy Birthday, Gammy! I hope you’re rediscovering your glamour and your dreams.

On A Personal Note…

Sorry, Sister Dearest. You can’t escape it. As John Glenn said, “There is still no cure for the common birthday.”

Hope yours is a stellar one today!

[Cake from We Take the Cake.]

Coming Out of a Fog

This morning as I turned away from washing dishes and headed toward the stove for a cup of espresso, it hit me. Stopped me in my tracks.

I’d missed a dear friend’s birthday. By a long shot. Not that I hadn’t been thinking about her; I just hadn’t connected the dates to her annual celebration. And since we share a birth day (but not month), it should be easy to remember.

Worse, she’s not the only one. I missed someone else’s birthday back in June.

I’ve never been great with remembering birthdays—one of the multitude of things I’m trying to improve upon. But these particular cases of forgetfulness may be attributed to my cumulative losses and stress over the past year. Waves of calendar-challenged days sweep over me periodically.

Still, I should have remembered. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about these friends. I just don’t associate them with specific dates.

I’m a noodlehead and I’m sorry.

So Happy (extremely belated) Birthday, you two. Stay young.

“The idea is to die young as late as possible.”
—Ashley Montagu

[Cake by JollyBe Bakery.]

Let’s Eat Cake!

Lull is two today. Can you believe it? Joyeux Anniversaire!


About the Cake Pictured: Created by JollyBe Bakery of pear buttercake with caramel-vanilla buttercream and pear-flavored rolled fondant. The painting is inspired by the work of Japanese artist Kishio Koizumi.

Another Christmas Eve, Another Year Older

Yup. Today was my birthday and my mother asked if I felt a year older.

“A YEAR older? I feel TEN years older!” I cried. And right then I knew I had to turn back the clock. I had to have a good day in spite of how I felt.

So I did. I took my husband to Paris for a few hours. Kentucky, that is.

Horses dotted every snow-blanketed hill on the way and stone fences paralleled our route. Not much was open in the small downtown, but it was a pleasure just to stroll the sidewalks.

Tonight, as Christmas Eve becomes Christmas, it’s snowing—apparently only about the 13th white Christmas the area has known since 1872.

Now I feel young again. Feel like I should put some cookies out for St. Nick…

[Art courtesy of the Graphics Fairy.]

For A Favorite Relative Upon Reaching A Milestone Birthday

“In spite of illness, in spite even of the arch-enemy sorrow, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiosity, interested in big things, and happy in small ways.”
—Edith Wharton, in A Backward Glance: An Autobiography

"You Say It's Your Birthday, It's My Birthday Too…"

Birthdays can be a lonely time for displaced workers whose work had been their entire world. No jokes about getting older, no birthday greetings or gifts, no free lunch.

But folks who have December holiday birthdays already know the routine. For years, their birthdays have come and gone without much fanfare. When you compete with Santa and Jesus for attention, the outcome is pretty clear.

Today is my birthday. But I'm not complaining. With Santa and Jesus, I feel like I'm in excellent company. And my family never cheated me out of gifts or attention. They even gave me a holiday-related name, which I plan to reveal in 2010—with your help.

Here's my birthday wish that YOU have the power to make come true: Get more readers for Lull.

E-mail a favorite post (you just have to click on the envelope icon at the end of the post) or send them the URL to Lull's home page. Encourage them to be followers; be a follower yourself. I need to show visitors that people outside my inner circle are reading. And, by all means, please comment!

Once the audience expands, then I'll feel comfortable enough to discard my pseudonym and write under my own Christmasy name.

It's hard for me to ask for help, dear readers, but I really need it now. Help me be a new, authentic me in 2010.