"Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter can be said to remedy anything."–Kurt Vonnegut

 

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday dear me-eee, happy birthday to me.

 

I am now in my 33rd year.  That’s right, my Jesus Year.  While the answer to WWJD? remains to be seen, let’s at least hope that I’ll manage to skip that whole crucifixion thing.

It has been a hell of a year (emphasis on the Hell).  This is a weird birthday since I think mentally I’m still somewhere in early October.  I’d usually spend about a month buying myself birthday presents and planning the dinner I’d make myself (or, alternately, make my friends take me out for)…instead I find myself saying, “huh?” when the cashier at Meijer wishes me a happy birthday after carding me for my wine.

 

So in case you’re wondering, this is how I will be celebrating #33:

1.  Sleeping in.  Making omelet/home fries breakfast with Good Coffee.

2.  Department meeting.

3.  Lecture.  I suspect my students are up to something, as one of them asked me about a month ago when my birthday was and what my favorite color is.  And today said student asked again in class, then sent me an e-mail with the subject “random question” and the text merely read, “So we were just wondering what you favorite candy is haha”

Cute little buggers, ain’t they?  Regardless, in spite of their best efforts, I will try to teach them something about dipole moments and valence bond theory.

4.  Office hours.  Hoping nobody shows up.  May cancel – we’ll see.

5.  Home.  Birthday bicerin.

6.  Birthday boilermaker and smoked fish.

7.  Steak.  Mac and cheese nirvana.  Rapini.  California cab from Meijer clearance rack.

8.  Glee. 

9.  Possibly a cookie with a candle in it for old times’ sake, since this is feeling like a Lenny year. 

 

And that’s about it.  Such is a midweek birthday in a new town, when you really don’t have people you can call friends yet.  Single girl empowerment and all that shit.  Whee.