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happy berfday month

2009/09/03

so forever, i’ve had a few berfday traditions

1. it’s considered berfday MONTH – who takes 1 day when they can take the whole month!?

2. i always buy myself a present, nothing too crazy, just something i wanted for awhile and couldn’t justify buying—that is until i remember i CAN buy it because it’s berfday month.

3. i always buy a new dress & perfume, not being a huge perfume wearer I still have the ones I’ve picked up from years pass…but it starts then & remains my main scent for the reat of the year on those special occassions when I do need to feel extra pretty.

and

4. on berfday dinner i ALWAYS order dessert first, and then my dinner. the waiters normally get annoyed when i ask for the dessert menu but then once I reassure that yes i did take up a whole table at prime dinner time & i do still plan on ordering food..just AFTER my dessert, they seem ok with it and normally pull a candle out of an old drawer or something.

 

 

enjoy this birthday month short story from the one and only mr. jon strieby:

It was his birthday month again, a lot of people’s in fact.  He always wondered why this was so.  His father, friends, extended family, the majority of people he knew all had birthdays in September.  It was as if on the seventh day when god clapped on the light, it was September.  A time for the pools to be drained, the leaves to be changed, the sky to turn from rain to snow, and a time for school to begin.

            It was always a much anticipated and anxious time, a season of change, and a season for introspection.  Gone were the days of extroverted expressionism in the form of summer passion.  These were the days when weather cooled, and the sun rode low on the horizon, setting earlier and earlier making every living thing want to crawl into bed and wait the season out.  While the boy on the other hand, wanted to crawl deeper and deeper into his thoughts to think the season out.

            In this time of transformation from bloom to brittle his thoughts would again turn back to the fact that, it seemed to him, the world was populated in September.  Was it random chance, astrological phenomena of planets aligning, a telling sign from the Mayan calendar?  He knew not.  But from August until October his head was bent on this bizarre occurrence he deemed “birthday month”.  Not an overly creative term but astute and concise, which, to his eight year old mind, worked perfectly.

            It was on taking his dog for a walk, through the aspen grove behind his house, that his epiphany came as to why September held the birth of his world and that of most everyone he knew.  It came because of a lesson he had had that day in his 3rd grade class, along with his mom trying to teach him the months and where they came in relation to each other. 

            In class, his teacher was going over a dumbed down version of the gestation period for a human fetus.  She had said that the baby was in the mother’s belly for nine months before it was born.  Being born meant that that day was the baby’s birthday.

“I get it, it takes nine months, September is the 9th month!” he exclaimed, but then thought to himself, what happened in the months prior to make it so everyone’s birthday fell in September?  Alas, stumped again.

He thought on as he walked, reaching the point in the trail where it began to climb and became a series of steep switchbacks.  Not wanting to deal with the hill he turned himself, and his dog, around and headed back home.  His head still swimming with the “birthday month” realization.

When he reached home his mom was in the kitchen getting dinner ready; pasta, he loved pasta.  The sauce, the slurp, the color, not to mention the taste, he loved the whole experience of the meal.

            Wondering if his mom could shed some light on the topic, he asked what the family had done nine months ago.  She thought on the question a bit and replied, “We went to grandma’s for Christmas and New Years, remember?”

            He did remember.  He remembered gifts, stockings stuffed to overflowing, Grandma’s house in Illinois, food, cousins, aunts and uncles.  He had had a blast.  He even remembered a comment his father had uttered after a New Years Eve party his uncle had thrown.

            The family, or most of it at the time, was sitting around the breakfast table, or inhabiting various parts of the kitchen, eating pancakes his grandma had made in the shape of Mickey Mouse’s head when his father had entered the room looking a bit worse for wear.  He walked over to the coffee maker and began to pour himself a cup.  As he was in the process of draining the last bit of coffee he chuckled to himself and said, “nothing like a New Years party to make a few bad decisions, eh?”  Then as he put the mug up to his unshaven face he looked over at the boy, smiled, gave him a wink and a knowing nod.

 

Happy New Years Everybody!

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