And it means that today I’m 33.
I feel like taking a trip down Memory Lane. Some stops will be birthday related, some not.
This picture was taken in the fall of 1981. I was in first grade. My teacher was Miss Brock. She seemed ANCIENT. She wasn’t, apparently, as she didn’t retire until 1997, the year I graduated from college. (I went to college in the same town I went to elementary school in, and I interviewed her for a school project in college. She still scared me, just like she did back in 1981-1982 when she called me a buttinski. But I digress.)
The first birthday I remember is my 10th. Double-digits, man. I thought that was so cool. I remember having a birthday party. The only gift I remember is a book from some “older” friends of mine. They were in their early 20s and students of my father. I don’t remember the name of the book. I’m not sure I actually finished it. A move or two ago, I got rid of the book… but I kept the inscription page, which was lovely and full of compliments, perfect for my pre-adolescent self-esteem (or lack thereof). Actually, I just remembered my 7th birthday. I got a pink-striped hula hoop from my boyfriend.
On my 12th birthday, I threw such a temper-tantrum about something party-related that I didn’t GET a 13th birthday party. That “learned” me!
This is my high school senior picture. That was one of my best hair days ever. (My wedding day is probably the only day that beats it.) I had big hair — I graduated in 1993, when we were still recovering from the 80s — but it looked good. I remember the day I had this picture taken. I went to the hair dresser to get my hair fixed (which is why it looked so good). I felt so beautiful that day. My parents still have this picture on their mantle. I graduated from high school 15 years ago. (I guess they like it. I think a wedding picture — maybe this one? — has been added, but I’m not positive.)
This picture was taken at my 21st birthday party, thrown by some friends. You’ll want to click on the thumbnail, so you can see my REALLY short hair. (This was not one of my best hair periods. In fact, several times, I’ve been asked, “What possessed you to do that?” I still ask myself the same question. Ahhh… the mistakes of youth…) I don’t remember the particulars of that birthday party, but I remember being really, really happy. I still have the book Bryan and Leslie gave me (they got married later that year), as well as the card everyone signed. This party, a few days after my birthday, was preceded by my roommate Rachel’s making me breakfast in bed on my official birthday. It was awesome. Not a drop of alcohol crossed my lips either of those days, or any day until I was 27. The day alcohol did first cross my lips, I had two sips of champagne during my friend Christi’s wedding and was done. I am not a big drinker, as you might now realize, but I can drink a LITTLE more than that now.
For this picture, I was in Kentucky for homecoming in 2002. Toby and I attended the baseball alumni game, as well as a celebration for the 20th anniversary of the start of the media communications department at my college. (Toby attended only the outdoor events.) I was very happy that weekend, and also very blonde. (See, I told this wouldn’t all be birthday related.)
Two-and-a-half years after that picture was taken, I learned what happy REALLY felt like when I started dating Ed. (Insert “awwww…” here.)
I can’t remember my first birthday we were together. (I’m probably repressing that time, as it was six weeks before the wedding.) Last year, Ed made me grilled fish. I was exhausted, and he served it to me in bed. 🙂 As for this year? Grilled fish, Greek salad, and brownies and ice cream. I can’t wait!
I took this picture of myself this morning. I’m even wearing green for my St. Patrick’s Day birthday, something I rarely do. Remind me to tell you the story someday.
Thanks for taking the trip down Memory Lane with me, whether you made it this far or are still stuck a few paragraphs ago, stunned by the disaster that was my boy hair. 🙂 Don’t worry. It took the people in that picture awhile to get over it, too.