The only thing I really want for my birthday is to enjoy a hot, sunny day at the beach.
I’d go for a morning jog on the boardwalk or even in the sand–not too early, though, because of course I’d sleep in–take a shower, and find a little diner to order eggs with a side order of grits. After breakfast, I’d throw on a swimsuit and shorts, toss a paperback book into a beach bag, drape a towel around my neck, don sunglasses and spend the day on the sand.
After reading, feeding the gulls, snapping a picture of some sandpipers skittering along the foamy edge of the water, snoozing, writing in a journal, thinking, praying, and pondering life, I’d take a long walk. Toward evening, I’d swing by a shrimp shack and pick up a half-pound of steamed shrimp sprinkled with Old Bay Seasoning, make some sweet tea, and sit by the water, savoring each bite, each sip. After shelling that obscene number of shrimp, I’d rinse my hands in the water. I might find an ice cream stand or clean up a bit and find a nice restaurant to order a special dessert. I’d eat it slowly. After, I’d walk along the beach again and breathe in the salty air. Maybe the moon would be out. I’d linger there until I reluctantly pull myself away and head off to bed, to sleep. To dream.
That would be a great birthday.
Instead, I’m here in the landlocked midwest.
Just glancing out the window, I see piles of limp, dirty snow and icy patches where melted snow refroze. The dog has to step gingerly across the back yard’s slick spots to do his business. In order to jog comfortably, I’d have to pull on several layers and top it off with Gore-Tex, because in winter I’m always that cold, even when exercising–although it may warm several degrees today and churn up a thunderstorm. March may come in like a lion.
In the meantime, a thick layer of clouds hides the sun, turning the sky a depressing whitish-gray, the color of our old athletic socks. The closest beach other than a frigid Lake Michigan is about 13 hours’ drive from here.
To make matters worse, the kids were off by one day–they wished me a happy birthday yesterday morning. Obviously the family has not been discussing my birthday very much. And I couldn’t help but note their tone: they said it very mildly. Matter-of-factly. “Happy birthday, Mom.” No exclamation point. No jumping up and down, hugs and kisses. They employed the same tone that you’d use to say, ”I think Turner is showing On Golden Pond tonight.”
“My birthday’s tomorrow,” I said.
“Oh. Well, happy early birthday.”
What’s more, as of yesterday I’m pretty sure there was no present in the house–other than the item I ordered from L.L.Bean with a gift certificate I got at Christmas. The kids have offered no giggling hints or expressed giddy anticipation. They may not even know about that package yet–it may have been whisked away and hidden without comment by The Belgian Wonder. If they know, though, they may not be very excited, because they’re giving me a gift that they didn’t pick out themselves, a gift that I received from the UPS man one morning while they were at school. As for anything else, they certainly hadn’t been taken shopping as of yesterday afternoon. I would know; I’m with The Boy all day and believe me, I would know.
So it’s going to be a cold, gloomy, probably stormy, still-snow-covered birthday.
Maybe I’ll make eggs and grits for breakfast. And I think there’s some ice cream in the freezer. I might even go a little crazy and melt some Nutella for a topping.
And get this: the item I ordered from LLBean?
A beach bag.
The joke’s on me.
let me be the first here to wish you a happy birthday, ann! when was the last time you swam in the ocean?
I’m delurking to say Happy Birthday. (You can’t see me but I’m jumping up and down and squealing with delight as I say it.)
I’m a fairly new reader of your blog and I’ve loved reading your thought-provoking and humorous posts. I’m originally from Indiana (Greencastle) but now live in Pennsylvania. Your writing evokes a midwestern charm and perspective that I miss. I’ve enjoyed connecting with my roots again through your writing.
Happy Birthday, Ann!
I’ve commissioned Hoops and Yoyo to stop by at their EARLIEST convenience, hope you enjoy their mini-concert.
I agree with Mom In Action – yours is a favorite blog of mine.
Here’s to a REALLY good day, and a little surprise or two in your honor.
Phil—
Happy Birthday! I’d jump up an down, but would probably hurt myself. I’m going to put Nutella on everything today in your honor. Well, maybe not my water…
Happy Birthday, Ann, from an old friend! I read your blog whenever I get a chance and always enjoy it. I’m staring out my office window at the rain and wishing I could join you on that sunny beach today! –Julia Knispel
Monica: You were first! Thanks very much for the birthday wishes–and you nailed me on the swimming part. I like being *next* to the ocean. I like listening to it, watching it, walking in it, wading into it, reaching into it for shells, but I rarely swim in it. First of all, I’m not a very *strong* swimmer. Second, we’re often there at a time of year when the water is chilly, and I can’t bring myself to submerge my torso. I’m trying to remember the last time we visited the ocean. I think it was 2005. I vacationed near some large lakes in 2006 (Michigan and Huron).
Mom in Action: I’m delighted I can offer you a sense of the midwest. I’m so very much midwestern, that I don’t even know when or how I’m doing it. I’ll just keep being the Hoosier that I am, and you can reminisce! I’m really glad you commented!
Phil: I was utterly charmed by the birthday e-card! Thank you very much–it was an early treat before I trudged out into the gloom to squeeze every drop of wonder out of my day. I took pictures to commemorate the day that I hope to post as a follow-up. Thanks for thinking of me, and those encouraging words about the blog!
Steve: Ah, Nutella. How do I love thee? Let me count the ways: to the depth and breadth and height/My spoon can reach…on the ends of French bread/with bananas and berries. Oh, I’ll stop there. I hope you enjoyed a chocolate-y March 1st. See you and J’ tomorrow!
Julia: Oh my goodness, just the other day I was thinking about you, wondering how you are? You’ve got to jump over to e-mail me or phone and give me a long update on life!
All: Thank you for giving me a big smile today! It was a treat to read every word you wrote.
Your kids were a day early and now I am a day late in wishing you a Happy Birthday! Sorry, but I suppose tardy birthday wishes are better than no birthday wishes. This week has been a bit chaotic so I didn’t get to do my regular blog reads yesterday.
I hope you get to use your new beach bag sooner rather than later. I grew up 10 minutes away from the melodic ocean and I sure do miss it.
We have company coming over on Sunday and for dessert we will be having crepes with nutella, whip cream and other toppings. Feel free to stop by if you happen to be in the area
!
anordinarymom: Mmmmm….have a great crepe gathering.
And I’m two days late…Happy Birthday!!! (Jumping up and down!)
I arrived home from Florida late last night to snow and ice and 28 degrees. Welcome home! Would it help you to know that, although it was plenty warm where I was on your birthday it really wasn’t sunny? And I never set foot on the beach, or drank sweet tea. (I did have grits for breakfast, though.)
Maybe next year you can get the Belgian Wonder to make your birthday dreams come true?! Start dropping hints now!
Thank you to everyone who risked life and limb to jump up and down while wishing me a happy birthday! I’ve grinned over every comment!
Karen: Oh, I can’t imagine going to Florida and being kept from the ocean. That’s torture.
Next year I don’t really need a big event. This birthday was the Big one. Next year is an ordinary, odd-numbered birthday. Those I don’t mind spending on my own at the library and Goodwill. The ones that end in zero, those are the ones where I dream of something Big. Oh well. I do have my throne, which will last much longer than a half-pound of shrimp and serve as a daily reminder that it in fact turned out to be a very good birthday, even here in the Midwest.