Odd Days: Birthdays

There comes a time in life when you must take control of your own birthday. You've moved out of your parents' house, so you can no longer rely on Mom to fill your special day with cool surprises and endless pampering. Sooner than you might think, you start to notice that time has sped up. You feel a need to mark your birthday with a memorable activity or event. Nowadays they call that "crossing things off your bucket list." In my day, such behavior was called a midlife crisis.

For me, the need to put a unique marker on each birthday began in my late twenties. My first wild ass adventure was getting my ears pierced. I know....yawn. But by the time I hit thirty, I was living on the edge. That year I got a tattoo. Now don't go yawning over a tat. Back then, only Janis Joplin and the entire U.S. Army had tattoos. Back then, you could still find Lyle Tuttle in a tiny shop on 7th Street in San Francsico offering tattoos for $35.

Eventually my birthday events morphed into full-fledged adventures, and this year the adventure was Pikes Peak. (The cherry on top was a multisport camping trip in the mountains on my actual birthday. More about that in a future blog.)

Although the list of adventures-to-come is not growing shorter, I now have a second list -- a list of things I will (probably) never do, or never do again. Before you get all teary, let me just say, I'm not in mourning over any of the items on that list. For example, I'm quite sure I'll never run a six minute mile. I've given up thigh high skirts and 4 inch heels. And I promise never to wear a bikini again.

Hmmmmm. Short list. I guess everything else is still on the table.