The good news is that I didn’t spend the first few hours of this birthday in the ER. Instead Paul and I took the kids out for sushi. The restaurant had a nice, quiet atmosphere with live classical guitar music. I had a glass of Riesling and we all sampled each other’s sushi. Two out of three kids liked sushi. I once heard that two out of three ain’t bad. Ha ha. I bet right now you are thinking that I am a really sophisticated, classy, and perhaps elegant woman. If that is what you want to think then you better stop reading because Saturday night I was in the mosh pit.
Saturday night? Well Saturday night I played the birthday card. The birthday card is something that I bring out the couple of weeks before or after my birthday, okay okay pretty much the whole month of July. I think that birthdays became such a big deal for me because as a kid my mom went out of her way to make me feel like a princess on that one day of the year. My autistic brother went to grandma’s or aunt Grace’s for the day. He wasn’t the center of our universe or talked about for that one day of the year. Since my birthday fell in the middle of summer I could take friends swimming, have a sleepover up north, or go mini bike riding.
Back to Saturday night, I talked Paul into seeing a metal band with me. Paul likes classical music. No, not classical rock. I am talking about Beethoven and Bach here. Pretty wild guys in their day, but not ours. We also dragged our pastor along. Makes confession a lot easier. No, seriously, he has an appreciation for the music. This was a pretty crazy crowd. Not a quiet crowd like the one we had at the Metallica tribute concert. Who would’ve guessed? We hung out in the back, moving out of the way when average sized bouncers dragged out surly drunk fighters. Three quarters of the way through the concert I wanted to get in where the action was. Even though the little voice in my head told me to stay away because I couldn’t risk getting hurt before the marathon next month. I imagined someone crushing my foot as I inched my way into the third row, the music beating into my chest and my hair feeling the static of the vibration. The adrenaline rush, the anxiety of passing out, feeling surrounded by people yet all alone, enjoying the music. The guy two over started punching someone which edged me over into the mosh pit. The guys there moved this weak, fragile, old (strong , marathon trained, young) lady out of the way. But that happened Saturday night when I was still 40.
Another year of life with lots of things checked off my bucket list this year and just as many added. Another birthday under my belt!