Birthdays

1) The best birthday I ever had was turning 20 as a junior in college. Mr. Milkweed was teaching English in China, and as I sat in the dorm TV lounge glumly pondering the prospect of a birthday without my schmoopy-poo I was bodily kidnapped and thrown into a car. After blindfolding me with a bandanna and shoving the soundtrack to Disney's The Little Mermaid in my ears, my three best friends drove me all around the streets of Harrisonburg, refusing to tell me where we were going. And then, eventually, we stopped at the roller skating rink, where there was black light roller skating all night long. It was the best surprise of my life.

2)The worst birthday I ever had was turning 22 on the eve of my first day teaching freshman composition at Ohio State. I had cut my hair short in an effort to look more than just four years older than my students, and I hated it. While I loved being a student of English, I had no desire to pursue teaching at the college level, though I was just beginning to figure that out. Mr. Milkweed took me out to a fancy Italian restaurant where we sat at a table for two and drank wine out of crystal goblets. The waitress presented me with a gold fork for my fettuccine, and I burst into tears. Worst birthday ever for me (and worst date ever for Mr. Milkweed).

Here's what I learned from these two experiences: it takes other people to make an experience truly great, but it only takes one person to make it suck, and here she sits.

Why freak out about this surgery? I'm young, in good health, and painkillers make me witty, cute, and invincible. When the dust settles and I've recovered, I might be able to eat pizza again for the first time in over two years. No more huge-ass bottles of Maalox on the weekly grocery list. No more pain in the middle of the night. Only goodness, prosperity, and fairies. Huzzah!

Yesterday I had a great birthday. We went to Burger Bach and inhaled an enormous platter of fries with dinner. I received the new albums from Mumford & Sons and the Avett Brothers, realizing the first was titled "Babel" and the second "The Carpenter--" Old and New Testaments represent! The kids spent Thursday and Friday with the in-laws, meaning that I got to volunteer at soup kitchen on Friday and hold the hard copy of this in my hands.My first byline! It was a birthday miracle. I also got to talk to someone who, when I whined about being unable to be Zen about what I termed my upcoming evisceration, told me a story with the punch line "when the Zen ends, the ass-kicking begins."

Actually, he was quoting That 70's Show, but whatever, dawg, cause you know Jesus don't care!

BRING IT ON. I'm ready to start feeling normal again.