Happy Birthday, BRITTANY

It’s mah 23rd birfday!

What does that mean?

Well, my hairdresser just gave me a GIANT glass of wine while she trimmed me up, AND I got a free brownie from Geraldine’s Bakery,  conveniently located just above where I get my hairs cut.

Delicious brownie and (slightly!) shorter hairs.

It also meant Birthday “LOST” on Skype with Jamie AND decorating the three foot, pre-lit, fake Christmas tree I got for $15 off the display at Bed, Bath & Beyond yesterday. It just wouldn’t be a birthday without some Christmas cheer. My mom sent me a Ziploc baggy full of old ornaments from my house–ones of me from when I was just a little tyke, and ones I loved from then, too.

You might not guess this, but as a child, my two favorite things ever were cats and Minnie Mouse. And okay, a third: myself. So, yes, my tree DOES look like a toddler decorated it.


Baby Me and Baby Minnie with a kitten, as ornaments. NOTE: We are both wearing pink bows.


The whole dang tree!

Now that that’s over, I’m going to do some laundry, drink some more wine and prepare myself for sushi at Sumisu later.

With the only cultural significance left to my increasing age being a discount on car insurance and a bunch of gag canes and incontinence pills by “Over the Hill!” Manufacturers, it’s interesting, now, to associate meaning with another year gone by.

For me, being 23 will mean living alone, working a lot, not making money, not seeing family, missing old friends and cultivating new ones. But most of all, it will mean trying to figure out exactly what from myself by the time the next Dec. 18 rolls around. Here’s hoping I’m ringing it in the right way.



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