This could be a good one...

So every year after all this V-day business, my birthday comes a week later. Most of the time, I let the day do its thing, I think, "I'm glad to be here" & other birthday-like yada yada yadas, but I can usually count on my day unraveling like so...

• My mom will call at the time I was born (7:25am) and will go through the day of my birth. She will always remind me that when I was first born, she looked at me strangely and said to the doctor's, "Who is this child???" I was bald-headed and beet red.
• My brother will call and do the older brother thing, by telling me how we are getting older and other folks in our family and in the world are wasting time (Gotta get the sober reality talk from at least one person, right???:P).
• Then sometime throughout the day, my girls will call me. Someone will inevitably attempt to sing me a song, usually with a rap (I think this year it will be you, MM). I will also have to remind at least one of them how old I am and we will have to get into a conversation as to how I am oldest amongst my girlfriends in the A (but never mistaken as such). :)
• My dad will call and he will go through everyone's birthday in the family... "Your birthday is in February, your uncle is in January, then there's several birthdays in July... Your brother's birthday is July 2nd, then it's your mother's, right???, I'm September..."
• Let's see... Oh! My grandparents will call and say, "Happy Birthday, baaaaay-beee!" I will also have to tell them how old I am, my grandmother will be shocked, and wonder when I'm gonna find somebody.
• I will get a Vicky Secret birthday coupon in the mail to come and pick up my free panty.

I am very thankful for my yearly birthday line-up because I am reminded (in very unusual ways) how much I am loved... (Even the lingerie store thinks enough of me to say that I need a new set of panties for my big day). As usual, I am doing nothing over the top to celebrate, except hangin' out with some good friends, drinking the best margaritas in town, and doing some ol' skool dancing (I decided after last week's musings that margaritas are my friend).

But surprisingly, as I approach this upcoming bday with no more enthusiasm than any other bday, I keep hearing a voice that says, "Wait SP! This could be a good one"...

Ok, not big on voices (and in my profession, voices aren't really looked upon favorably), but this one has gotten me intrigued especially since it has somehow broken thru my present 30+flirty funk... Maybe this year will bring me... an answer to my latest SP life dilemnas... OR a winning lottery ticket! A job halfway across the world! A visit to "Parie"!

So, what do I do to figure out this voice's elusive message??? I go to wikipedia (LOL) and it says my forthcoming age is a natural number that represents.... the atomic number of Arsenic and is the number printed on all Rolling Rock beer... Um, not really the answer I was looking for but either which way the year goes, I hope that voice was on to something... This could be a good one. :)

--SP (the birthday girl).

My Post "Death-to-a-Single-Girl"-Blog Musings...

A couple of weeks ago two of my male friends scooped me up so we could catch up and have a couple of drinks. We went to Rare, a groovy southern tapas restaurant, that recently re-opened after a long hiatus (Glad you're back!).

It was there, after we had our first round, that we started discussing the contents of my last blog entry. Not like a couple of my girls (who interestingly are sisters) who deemed it my "Death to a Single Girl" blog (yes, I admit it was a little downbeat but I thought it showed my cynical but cute side :P ), my Boy BFFs had different take on it. The conversational exchange went something like this...

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Boy BFF#1: SP, I read your blog.

SP: Whatcha think about it?

Boy BFF#1: It was cool, but while you are writing about blahs about your single life, you don't seem to want to get married. You're picky. I don't think you really even want a boyfriend.

SP: Um...

Boy BFF#2: True.

SP: LOL, Whatever dudes.

Boy BFF#1: Seriously, do you want to be in a relationship???

SP: Well... see, I don't...

Boy BFF#1: You know what SP??? You're happy with a maintenance man, you know someone who can come through, "tighten things up" and then you send them on your way. You don't want them to be a part of the interwovens of your life.

Boy BFF#2: Boo-yah!

SP: No, I do want a partner... of some sort.

Boy BFF#1: SP, what do you want?

SP: Well, uh... see it's like... I want... you know...

Boy BFF #1: SP, easy question, what do you want???

SP: (In my less flustered trying to pull it together), Well, what I want is... (yet another pause)

Boy BFF#1: WHAT DO YOU WANT?!

SP: (Trying to scrape for scraps, I blurt), I want love!

Boy BFF#2: Boooooo! Love had me on the hood of a Kia Spectra last night (uh, true event here).

Boy BFF#1: SP, for real, that's all you got???

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I kinda even stunned myself with my shoddy, sub-par response. "I want love???"... Sounds like a throw back from my twenty-somethings. :P

But I must admit, this dialogue hung out in my head for a minute. I couldn't get the fact out of my mind that I, SP of sound mind, body, and 30+ years to boot, could not intelligibly answer this simple question... What do I want?

I started to think about my latest musings, my last writing, and the present state of affairs of my life. After reading my last blog, on the surface it may sound like a 30-flirty-single girl who is ready to turn in her single girl passport for marriage citzenship. But most who really know me know that I have never been that simple... nor that "Matt Lauer" glib to think that the cure for my latest single girl blues is matrimony, a boyfriend, or even a Friday night date in the A.

Rather, I think my "Death to a Single Girl" blog is more of the rantings and ravings of a 30+ single girl in the A who forgot that she's been given the gift of time to craft out the exact kind of life she wants (and most assuredly needs). And I must say here, I thank "the good" that looks out for me in this universe for this gift because I am pretty sure left up to me, I would have f'd some things up and over if I got what I want when I wanted it.

But as for now, my thoughts say that maybe Boy BFF is right. When I looked up the official job duties, maybe I do want the maintenance-sort of man (Not a bad gig, right??? LOL). But maybe I am right too....I want "love" (whatever that is). Who knows, maybe these two seemingly opposing life choices can co-exist. So until I figure out this conundrum, onto my musings au courant: Margaritas... Friend or Foe??? :) --SP