Twenty-nine years ago today, I was born. From what I hear, that was quite an event, lots of to-do about a wee little me. I was 2.2 lbs. I’m about 118lbs heavier now.
When I started working, and especially since moving out, I give myself the gift of not working on or near the date of my birthday. Two years ago I went hiking at Switzer’s Falls in the Angeles Forest when it was (surprise!) raining and some snow flurries that melted within a hour. Last year I went on a silent retreat for a day, and this year I went to Switzer’s Falls again. The restrooms were closed and the information kiosk wasn’t selling adventure passes, so a really nice couple gave me their annual pass! The fall colors were still putting on a show, and there were people around, but not so many that there weren’t extended periods of alone time. I returned in time for therapy & dinner at home; then went out to the Yardhouse in Long Beach with some grad school friends & coworkers. Some of them re-gifted items to me (i.e. no original packaging, things are not correctly itemized in the packaging).
Today I went to Mass, came home and excitedly read a letter that had arrived yesterday from the monastery. I was told that after “much prayer” that God “isn’t calling you to our Carmel”. Lovely news to read on my birthday. But I went on with my day, buying a gift for mom’s birthday, some errands and a late lunch with friends at Versailles, a Cuban restuarant. Now, i’m doing laundry. Might do some sewing later. Mom’s birthday was on Thursday, and she controls the birthday weekend: her cake, her time, her location, etc. I had to ask Dad if he/they wanted my birthday gift suggestions, and he was “Uh, what?” Like, hello, it’s my birthday, too. Anyway, my family is crazy.