Ambivalent

 Herself speaks.

I have a love/hate relationship with my role in most holidays. Especially birthdays. 

Birthdays are tricky. I do not like the birthday spotlight. And I don't know what to do with well-meaning and seemingly innocuous questions such as "what are you going to do for your birthday?" and "what did you get for your birthday?" Because oftentimes, the answer to either question is, "not much."

I don't necessarily want a big fiesta or to be showered with gifts; in fact, I would feel quite awkward under such circumstances. What I would like, though, is a bit of acknowledgment from my Important People: a sign that my presence in their lives is enough of a happy or comforting light to justify a token of recognition, that my successful completion of another journey around the sun warrants a moment of affirmation. That they saw something, and thought of me, and gave it to me to let me know they thought of me.

Like most people whose daily activities run under the radar, I occasionally feel underappreciated. It is balm to the soul to be acknowledged. 

This year, my ambivalence about my birthday was compounded by the presence of the Pandemic: could go nowhere, could see no one except those of my immediate household. My parents, brother, sister, Cherished Friend all hundreds and hundreds of miles away. My local extended in-law family, inaccessible because of risk. Made it even harder to feel celebratory. 

In the future, I suppose the best thing I can do is to make my own celebratory plans. I will have to work it such that it is not an Ask for something (because I do not like to Ask), but rather, an offer of something to do.  And so, on next August 8 (God willing), I will plan to do "XYZ" -- which will be something I enjoy doing -- and invite along my important people. Up to them if they want to join me. And I will purchase for myself something I would like but have not wanted to spend the money on, just because. 

I have a year to get used to the idea. That will hopefully be enough time.

We shall see. 

(New Old Dog reflects my current mood.)

Party

Herself speaks.

The villagers on my Animal Crossing island threw me a birthday party today, complete with piñata. It was sweet, and a little sad.

It's hard to feel celebratory in the midst of a pandemic. Still, I am glad to be on this side of the daisies.

We shall see what 53 brings. 

Say CHEESE

Tiny Dog's Tinder profile picture.

 

Bumper Sticker

Oh, dear. 

(It says: I have a small penis. Honk for support.) 

FEED US

The small dogs refused to eat when I was away over the weekend. Don't be pathetic, small dogs. It will be OK. 

Take a Right

Herself speaks.

This weekend, I traveled up to Offspring the Third's college town to help him clean out his four-months-vacant-because-of-pandemic apartment, and prepare for the new school year. He is quite happy to be back in his own space with his kitties. It's a cozy spot that has everything he needs. 

Normally I am excited and happy for him at the beginning of each semester; this was the first time in several years that, upon leaving him, I was grief-stricken. The world is in upheaval now, and we are surrounded by people who eschew masks and safety precautions and put us all -- and especially him -- at risk. What if COVID strikes? I cannot even imagine. He will not fare well, and I may not be able to help him without getting sick myself. 

I want so much for his health and happiness. I am bereft at the thought of him so far away and at the realization that he is on his own more than he realizes. 

It was a long and very quiet drive home. My one small gratitude during the trip was for the household that has installed a set of large colorful chickens -- and a newly added dinosaur -- in their front yard, which serves as a signpost for a particular, well-hidden right turn. This small, yet meaningful, display gives me hope that not all people are awful, and that perhaps, if we are very lucky, we will be able to count a little on the acts of strangers to get us through this pandemic, and beyond. 

Road Trip