They Say It's Your Birthday

It’s my birthday too, yeah. It came, I saw, I kicked its ass. In some ways, I couldn’t wait for it to be over, but in other ways, it was a celebration of survival.

Last year’s birthday was the worst in my long history. Why? Read the blog post prior to this one. Because of the crappy memory associated with last year’s birthday, I was tentative about the second coming. But as it approached, just like it does every year like a high-speed train, I realized I was no longer afraid.  It was the Gloria Gaynor in me.

It was a birthday weekend. Friday night Molly and I (the Thelma to my Louise) hit downtown with a bullet. Green Vegas (best Greenville band eva) was playing Wild Wing at 10PM. After happy hour drinks and pulled-pork nachos at Arizona, we were starting to fade. But luckily the second wind blew in and we were on our way.

Now, it was MY birthday we were out to celebrate, and we were fringing on Molly’s as well since it will arrive three days later. When we climbed the stairs to the second level of WW, we were first greeted by a bouncer who put arm bands on our wrists WITHOUT checking ID. Bitch slap number one.

Next vision – a slew of men all wearing black t-shirts emblazoned with the words “Sean Spears is 40 today”. That party had started earlier in the day and these boys were wound up. Within the first hour, I know I saw at least three rounds of shots go down the hatches. Well, there was going to be competition in the birthday bashing tonight. We were up for the challenge.

Green Vegas rocked the house, as usual, and we danced our butts off with Sean Spears et al. For someone reason, they latched on to us. At one point Molly said, “Do you realize we were old enough to babysit these guys when they were kids?” Oooh, bitch slap number two.

I arrived home at 2am, thankful I had no reason to set an alarm. Of course I was still wide awake by 7:30 and in need of some strong coffee. Uh oh, the easy-to-use, handy-dandy Tassimo was disassembled. All the parts were in the dish drainer. I had neither the expertise nor a clear enough head to deal with that. Guess I will wait until I meet the girls for lunch and get my caffeine fix with sweet tea.

I met Vicki and Kelly at their dad’s so I could see Wyatt for a few minutes. Grandpa Vic and Mimi were babysitting so the girls could spend the afternoon with me.  Wyatt handed me my card, a plant and plainly spoke the words, “Happy birthday Ma-maw.” That was all the gift I needed. For those who haven’t heard yet, Wyatt has also got my Christmas gift on order. He spilled the beans when he walked in with his “Big Brother” shirt.

Greenville is teeming with outstanding restaurants and the girls told me to pick whatever my birthday heart desired. Subs and Clubs. Small, family-owned hole-in-the-wall short on ambiance, tall on quality of food. The place holds lots of memories for me, many with the girls. I attempted to drive into the parking lot, but couldn’t. The entrance was blocked by a fire truck and an ambulance, both with lights flashing. I was convinced we could still go in and place our order, but was overruled. The hamburger at J. Peters was good, but my taste buds still craved the infamous Chicken Philly at Subs. Oh well, there’s always next year.

We did enjoy seeing Ted, my second time. Laughing with my family was a terrific way to spend my special day. By 5PM, I was back home – and in for the night. I guess turning 58 does require a longer recovery time when you party the night before. But all in all, it was a great birthday spent with those I love most – well almost all of them. And it certainly beat last year’s.