Happy Birthday to Me

It was my birthday over the weekend, along with the first day of fall. I have a touch of SAD (seasonal affective disorder), so when the days start getting shorter, I start feeling a little bit blue. And being in my "late 30s" now doesn't help, either.

Don't get me wrong: I love my birthday. Dozens of cards with warm words, calls from loved ones, presents... And really, I love all birthdays. A birthday is the one day where you can celebrate a person and no one bats an eye or feels strange about it. So I make it a point to send a card or make a phone call on birthdays, and I just revel in it when people recognize mine.

Still, with the fall weather and all, sometimes I just need a dose of happy, and all I have to do is remember birthdays past. Gary and I have made a tradition of trying all things new on our birthdays (new restaurants, new theaters, new experiences), which is definitely refreshing and rejuvenating. Many a joyful memory has come from the birthday celebrations that G has planned.

And the last few years at my former place of work, my team put together organization-wide birthday celebrations for me that involved food and gifts and cards and well wishes. Which I basked in, of course, and sorely missed this year.

But I have to admit, nothing will ever quite take the place of the complete, utter, enveloping ecstasy that was was my birthday when I lived at home. Ever since I was little and even through my rebellious teenage years, my mother made my birthday special. Mountains of beautifully wrapped presents on the table weeks beforehand. Letting me choose a restaurant for a fancy dinner. Parties and birthday cake and multiple renditions of the happy birthday song.

And oh, let's not forget, how could I ever forget, the Beatles singing "Birthday" at max volume in the morning as I woke up. I felt special and treasured and like the world existed just to make me feel like a million bucks. Thanks, Mom.

The People in Your Neighborhood

Paul lives a few doors down from us, next to the open fields that sometimes host cows, sometimes just coyotes, sometimes coyotes hunting cows. Paul was a in a car accident many years ago and suffered brain damage that impaired his short-term memory and we don't know what else. He works at King Soopers, eats dinner at his sister's house every night, doesn't drive, and spends pretty much all of his free time walking around the neighborhood talking and walking with the people who live here. He is one fit dude.

Paul is perpetually happy. He doesn't remember your name, but he remembers you and likes you. He likes everyone except people who don't stop at the stop sign at the intersection outside my house. "Did you see that guy? Didn't even stop. Unbelievable."

He loved Rachel, our furry companion of 14 years. He made friends with her when no one else would come close because she was such a ferocious protector of the yard and all things walking nearby. Every time he would stroll by, he would say, "Can I pet your dog?" We would say, "Well... she's not very nice to strangers." He didn't care. He persisted until he made friends with her. He would ignore her frantic barking, and eventually he won her over. When she saw Paul, she would immediately start wagging her tail. She loved Paul. He would always say, "She's such a beautiful dog." Who can resist anyone who thinks your little muttly, moody dog is beautiful?

Paul has a specific way of greeting you: "Hey, how ya doin'?" Then, "How ya been?" Then, "Did you work today?" That's usually how it goes with Paul, and the routine is comforting, and he always makes me feel like I belong here. He reminds me that life is simple and wonderful if you let it be.

Women in Politics (or Not)

Scary statistics from a panel presentation I attended last night sponsored by the Colorado Women's Chamber of Commerce:

• The U.S. is 67th in the world in terms of having proportional representation of women in government--we rank lower than Rwanda, South Africa, and Japan.


• 21% of college and university presidents are women, a number that has been flat for a long, long time.


• Colorado ranks fifth among the states in terms of having women in the state legislature, and we still have only 34% women.

The women who spoke on the panel are wonderful role models, though, and I was truly inspired by them. One woman works for The White House Project, and one of their initiatives is to train women to run for office. They are also working with the media to tell them what to report about women candidates (something other than their hair styles, hemlines, and families).

Journaling to Explore the Possibilities

My grandmother, who is 83, has survived breast cancer twice, severe polymyalgia, a heart attack, and, most recently, lymphoma. She's still sharp and active and funny, and I'm grateful to be able to spend some meaningful time with her as an adult.

Here's an example of Grandma's sense of humor: I've been encouraging her for a couple of years to take part in the activities at the senior center, but every time I brought it up, she'd say, "I don't like to hang out with those old people." OK... I could see her point. But yesterday she mentioned that she might be able to make some friends if she actually went to some events at the senior center. When I recounted the aforementioned objection, she said, "Yeah, well, I've just lately decided that I'm old." And she laughed her devilish laugh that always cracks me up because it means she's cracking herself up.

Anyway, sometimes we go to the cancer support group sponsored by the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Yesterday, the speaker taught us about journaling--some tricks and tips and methods for using it as a healing medium. We did several journaling exercises, and one of them was to use a "springboard" (list was provided) to get us thinking about something in a new way. I chose "What would I do if I knew I could not fail?" I actively tried to quiet my internal editor so I could just write. The gist of my response was that I'd change the world and create peace, harmony, and love. But here's the nugget I want to keep close and hope you will, too:

I'd give my heart away every day

and live in anticipation of

people giving their hearts to me.

I'd give the love we all want to receive.

Man, that was the best eight minutes I've spent dreaming in a while. Take the time to feel and find yourself, even it's five minutes a day, through meditation or writing or something. Contrary to what we're taught about being productive by always being busy, busy, busy, a quiet and still mind is a powerful thing.

Quote for the Day

The aim of life is to live, and to live means to be aware, joyously, drunkenly, serenely, divinely aware.

~Henry Miller

Away from Civilization--Sort Of

My nephew, Milo, basking in the sun after a cold, cold night camping

Our camping trip this weekend was fun, but we had to leave sooner than we planned. Every afternoon we had a major storm. And when I say major, I mean one day lightning struck our campsite and one day we had a half-inch of hail. And at 9,000 feet, it gets COLD at night after it rains. So Mother Nature did her part to let us know how inconsequential we are in the whole scheme of things.

But I could deal with all that. What was so funny is that we drove three hours to get away from it all and ended up in a campsite (not a campground--we won't stay in them) where we could hear ranch dogs barking, cattle lowing, and traffic on the dirt road about a half-mile from our camp. But we knew the rain was coming, so we had to pick a place. And the last day we were there, there were two gunshots VERY close to our campsite. Apparently it's hunting season, and apparently you can hunt in the U.S. National Forests. Needless to say, we left immediately. How could we feel comfortable hiking or even moving around in our camp knowing that we could be perceived as prey by our fellow humans? Yikes!

There were many beautiful moments on this trip, though:

• A study of grasses in bloom (see photos below)
• Moonlight shining on a tree at night, which made the new growth look like silver magic
• The haunting call of an owl at dusk
• Tiny little sounds of bats hunting
• Quiet contemplation of the scenery while savoring the delicious dichotomy of having half of my body in the shade, cool, and the other half in the sun, roasting