33

I turned 33 this week.  It feels much like 32--more like a negation--not young, not old.  I'm fine with that.  Joseph and I aren't people to cling to our youth, anyway.  We already enjoy things that will make us happy old people; we like to sit and read, enjoy a nice chair on a porch with good beverage, watch high quality science fiction.

Right now Perrin is napping.  I am out on the balcony resting my coffee on the cooler that has been cast out here since Christmas last week.  It is one of those little sad life facts.  Every time I look out the sliding doors, I see the cooler sitting there and I think about how it has been there for about five months instead of in the garage where it belongs.  For some reason we seem physically unable to clean it out and restore it to it's proper place.  This fact alone does not concern me.  But it does feel like some sort of measuring stick for my general adeptness at life; particularly when I am having a bad day.  Said measuring stick is coming up reading "less than enough."  Humph.  

I think it is this impending job search that has got me feeling crummy.  Really not so impending now; I guess it is time to get serious.  Looking for jobs just makes me feel so incredibly judged--as I'm sure is true for most people.  But instead of motivating me or just pushing through it, I feel completely paralyzed.  Having not interviewed for a job since my college days, the thought of a job interview makes me want to drag my family into the mountains to live like wolves.  If it wasn't for J's pesky career plans...why care for people's health and get paid for it when you could huddle against the cold with your family in the wilderness?  


This Saturday we are celebrating my birthday in the park with a picnic.  Tara is making a vanilla lavender cake trifle.  This is going outside of my normal--chocolate on chocolate--birthday cake request, but I am feeling summery and this sounds wonderful.  I will try to bring you a picture of this creation, as trifle is so pretty!  

The actual day of my birthday J worked from home and took me out to lunch and cupcakes.  It was lovely.  By evening there had been a misunderstanding between us and what was to be a dinner of chicken in mushroom sauce, ended with me eating a gas station burrito and J eating ramen.  The details are not important.  What is important is this lesson:  Be patient with your loved ones.  Usually when there is an argument, it is because of a miscommunication--not because after years with this person they have suddenly--as of today--turned into a complete ass.

One a lighter funnier note, Perrin has discovered the washing machine.  Aaaand she likes it.