Birthday reflections

Oh my goodness—I can’t believe I haven’t blogged in this long. See the date of the last one? That’s when I was 32. But then on the 9^th, I turned 33. Tricky business—it’s not that big of a deal, really, but I have spent the last few years planning quite a party. You don’t get it from the movies, but if you read the Lord of the Rings trilogy, the birthday party for Frodo and Bilbo is a big deal for both of them. It’s Bilbo’s eleventy-first birthday, and it’s Frodo’s 33^rd. It’s a big deal to make it to 111, even for a hobbit, and 33 is a big deal because it’s when hobbits officially become of age. I like the idea of not being a grown-up until 33. I especially liked that idea when I was 32 and younger. It’s kind of a bummer to be of age in just about every culture (many don’t consider you of age until you’re 30 anyhow).

The party looked like this: official invitations, big tent in the back yard, fire pit, good food, really good beer, smoking porch (hobbits love good pipe weed), fireworks—a LOT of them!, and a bard—a friend of mine who was going to teach drinking songs to those who wanted to learn a few. That would have been a great party. However, we moved to WI—not a great place for an outdoor party in January. We live in an apartment, so it’s not like we can host a lot of out-of-towners as planned. And since I moved in December, gathering all the people I knew in southern Wisconsin totaled a whopping 6 of us, including Tom and me. But we still drank good beer and a good time was had by all.

Next up—reflections on taking Amtrak around the Lake to Holland.For now, off to the dentist!