2 posts tagged “birthday”

What does your flag mean to you?

It means it's my birthday.

Well, Flag Day means that anyway.  Seriously, what has Betsy Ross done for anyone lately?  Flag Day is all about me.

This year:  34.  White cake filled with peach jam and frosted with an almond buttercream (I made it) and generously sprinkled by the kid with star sprinkles.  Salmon cooked on the grill at my parents' house.  New Mexico sparkling wine of some sort.  Top Chef cookbook received and read cover to cover.   Husband's birthday is two days after mine (well, 2 days and 6 years); my parents gave him a gun.  Now, obviously, we are never moving back to Japan.  It's funny because my husband and I talked about him getting a tattoo, and he was all, "Oh, I can't get a tattoo because then I can't go in the public baths and hot springs because they'll think I'm a yakuza."  Sure, he can't get a tattoo, but he can get a gun?  WTF?

Anyway, it was good. 

So, today was my 33rd birthday.  And as we were driving into the big city to see a movie (at a movie theater, even!), we were listening to the classic rock station.  I had not yet started considering myself old, but when the classic rock station is playing songs that you can remember being released in your youth, you must consider that someone out there--not you, not your husband, certainly not your friends--thinks you are becoming classic.  Not hip and cool, but classic. 

The song was Robert Palmer's "Addicted to Love."  It's not only a classic but downright iconic.  But, c'mon people.  This is the same station that was just minutes ago playing "A Horse with No Name" and "Hey, Jude."  It was 1985? 86? something when "Addicted to Love" came out.

Damn.  Classic rock.

It makes me wonder if someday my son will be watching late-night TV and there will be a commercial for an album of the greatest hits of the 1990s.  They won't be able to call it "Freedom Rock," I guess.  What would they call it--"Self-Loathing Rock"?  "Narcissism Rock"?  And there won't be hippies sitting out in front of their tie-dyed VW bus; instead, there will be "hipsters" sitting in a Starbucks somewhere shooting heroin and the soundtrack will be Nine Inch Nails and Nirvana, and the kids will laugh at how rebellious and deep we thought we were.  How funny.  Because they'll only know us as their parents and their parents' friends, and your parents and their friends are never really that cool.  We obviously never grappled with the complex emotions and radical ideas of individualism that our dear children will be grappling with. 

So, yeah, I'm 33, and I'm a total fogey.  Actually I don't feel any different from when I was 32--yesterday.  Remarkable.

Top 10 awesome things today:

10.  Talked to Zack!  Yippee!

9.  The man and I have, I think, after 2+ years of being married, finally reached an agreement about the ring issue.  I wear on the appropriate finger a ring he gave me, that my friend in Japan designed and made for me, for my birthday several years ago.  He wears no jewelry at all and would prefer to keep it that way.  We can't afford any rings anyhow.  And yet we have both thought there should be something.  I think we finally settled on what that should be.

8.  The asparagus has finally deigned to show itself.  I spent a long, hard day getting that shit in the ground, and I was beginning to fear it would never respond to my ministrations.  Finally! it has.  Altogether, our garden is rocking.  There are also many weeds growing in it that are edible, including two spinach relatives and one type of salsify.  Yum.

7.  T's parents called me from Japan to wish me happy birthday.  They have never previously done so, and they don't usually call for T's birthday either.  I seriously doubt they will call for his birthday this year either.  Anyway, it was nice of them.

6.  My mom babysat the kid for us all afternoon and evening.  My mom was thrilled; the kid was thrilled.  We were able to see a movie (in a theater!) and have dinner (sushi!) and actual conversations that were uninterrupted by shrieks and howls and requests for me to, once again, sing "mata aeru hi made."  Wow, conversation with my husband.  I had almost forgotten he was capable of speech.

5.  Sushi for dinner.  The sushi was pretty good, although the effect was somewhat dimmed by my husband's commentary:  "Why do Americans insist on putting avocado in sushi?  Why do Americans put the nori inside the roll?  This is powdered wasabi.  Do Americans put the nori inside the roll so that it doesn't stick to their teeth?  Americans are really obsessed with their teeth.  This soy sauce tastes strange."  And so forth.  Then he launched into tales of his time as a roe technician in the Alaskan salmon industry.  I would say that if you prefer not to have a large insect jump out at you, you might ought to stay away from the sujiko and ikura.  Mmmmkay.

4.  My husband totally didn't think I was insane when I launched into my theory of Japan and Japanese people.  It was less pretentious than it sounds there.  Indeed, he agreed with me and apparently came to the sudden realization that I had actually learned something during my three years there.  He denied, however, that he would be completely miserable if we returned there as he contends that he didn't care at all what other people thought of him when he lived there before, so why would he start now?  He has a point.

3.  A movie!! In a movie theater!!  With the most excellent eye candy, George Clooney, even.  What the hell, man?  How can he be so delightful and lovely and utterly perfect?  How is such a person possible?  Yes, the movie was Ocean's 13, which is--like George Clooney--stylish and--like Brad Pitt--utterly without substance.  It was fun, but I was really there for George.  My husband, less impressed with George Clooney than I am for reasons that are understandable, found the movie baffling in its vapidity.  I think if he were bisexual, he might have liked it better. 

2.  The long conversations with my husband today have demonstrated that I have not forgotten quite as much Japanese as I thought I had.  It's still there--at least, the grammar is.  I forgot some key vocabulary items, but I can still use all the various types of conditionals appropriately.  Sweet.  I so totally rule.

1.  The kid scrambled into bed with me this morning, sprawled himself out over my torso, and said, "I love you, mama."  That's the best--that's the absolute best thing ever.

And, hey, at least I'm not 35, like some of my cousins I could mention.  And at least it wasn't "Smells like Teen Spirit" on the classic rock station, sandwiched between "Three Steps" and "Crocodile Rock."  And at least the Japanese restaurant, whose katsudon really sucked, had Sapporo beer (although not shochu).

What am I "at least"-ing about?  It was a great day.  And thanks to those of you who emailed and all that--I love you guys, too.