I mark every birthday as a celebration of being alive and having survived yet another year of embracing creativity and joy amidst all the chaos the world has to offer. Different cultures of people view the numbers seven and eight as lucky. The product of those two numbers rule my birthday this year.
Wonderful luck foreshadowed my 2026 birthday when I looked at the calendar and noticed that my born day landed on Labor Day this year. An automatic day off.
For years, one of my birthday gifts to myself has been a day off. So the quintessential Virgo in me loved not having to use any PTO this time around.
I’ve also co-opted Dad’s idea of celebrating a “birthday month.” Unlike Dad, I don’t actually label every fun thing I do in September as my birthday celebration, but I also don’t think everything needs to happen on the actual day. There’s wisdom in spreading out the celebration, especially across the weekend.
Back when I lived in Austin during pre-COVID, I’d send out a birthday itinerary to friends for every birthday that ended in a “0” or “5,” foolishly designating those years as being more significant than the others. But let’s face it, on some level, there’s a reason to celebrate all things good, no matter how small.
Case in point, this past Thursday, I found a quarter in the parking lot on my way to dance class. The joy with which I picked up that quarter, one would have thought that I’d found much more money. Yet, ever since the great state of NC had refunded me $1, I’ve been on a mission to find the equivalent of a dollar just going about life. I’m not sure if it’s a sign of how desperate the times are economically, but since I’ve been on this micro-quest, that quarter was the most I’d found in one score, which raised my total to 47 cents for the year. (To read about how I spent that refunded $1 from the great state of NC, please read Tip That Motherf*****!)
For the past year or so, I’ve mostly confined my alcohol consumption to just Saturday and Sunday. I made an exception this past Friday night. Since a little red wine helps with concentration, I used that logic as I took an open book yoga final exam.
On Saturday mornings, I do my laundry for the week and go grocery shopping. I did the same with the addition of selecting a free birthday cake from the grocery store that I frequent. It was just as moist and delicious as it looks.
Later on Saturday, I gifted myself a high-end nice mani-pedi, complete with a 20-minute foot massage. I topped it off with a sparkling blue color, which had my birthstone, sapphire, in its name. That color may become yet another birthday tradition.
On Sunday, after my usual 60-min hot yoga class, I enjoyed a 60-min full body massage. Once again, the Virgo in me absolutely loved that the receptionist honored an expired $20 off coupon in addition to the usual gift of a $15 enhancement.
When I returned home, Mom, my sister and a neighbor had maneuvered Dad into the house and were attempting to affix the bed rail to the side of his bed. I welcomed Dad back home after being hospitalized and in rehab for over two months.
By the time my actually birthday rolled around, I’d slept in, then made breakfast for Dad and me. When I served Dad breakfast, I said, “Happy Labor Day!”
Dad just smiled, probably happier because breakfast was served rather than the holiday. Then, I asked him, “Do you remember what happened on this day 56 years ago?”
His first guess was “Easter.” I reminded him that I’d just wished him a Happy Labor Day. Then he guessed that it was either his birthday or my birthday. I laughed, reminding him that he was long past age 56, but at least he got the correct answer in 1.5 answers.
After breakfast, my sister and I did a labor of love for Mom. She had a decorative, wooden accent piece that was awkward and time-consuming to clean. As a matter of fact, the best way to clean it would be to burn it. A one and done solution. However, the second best way to clean it, is to take it outside and apply a wooden cleaner to it with a paintbrush. I convinced Mom to wait for a sunny day, so we could clean it in the morning and it could thoroughly dry.
Another birthday tradition, which I think I started for my 40th birthday, was wearing a tiara. I thought I’d keep that costume accessory for the rest of my life, but after this birthday, it’s time to retire ol’ girl and get another for the upcoming birthday.
Back in August I’d cashed in $30 worth of reward points from work to buy a two-piece bathing suit and swim trunks. Not only is such attire good for swimming, but also pole dancing and yoga. So far, I’ve worn those trunks to both pole class and yoga, but not to swim in. Yet, I love the versatility in such clothing for all the physical activities that I enjoy doing.
I saved the two-piece black and gold swimwear for my actual birthday. And what better way to celebrate one’s birthday than with a pole dancing class? Granted, this was my usual Monday night class, but a lifelong dream of mine is to spend as much of my waking time doing what I enjoy. Mission accomplished.
The next day I received a gift of fresh spices and a pair of earrings from a friend. Mom surprised me by not immediately asking what I was going to cook with those spices. I sprinkled a little from each jar into Dad and my breakfast eggs.
Two days later, I took Mom out to breakfast at a family-owned restaurant where neither one of us had ever been to before. I informed everyone that we were celebrating Mom’s 86th birthday.
Normally, Mom drinks ginger tea along with a smoothie for breakfast. She joined me with a large cup of green tea. We both employed a different utensil to keep our tea bags from floating. Not that this was a scientific experiment, but my knife produced a better seeping result than Mom’s spoon.
Mom ordered a Western omelet with grits and a homemade biscuit on the side.
Since I normally make an omelet-styled eggs for Dad and me every morning, I ordered a sausage egg and cheese biscuit with a side of potato and parmesan casserole. That biscuit was so big that I had to hold it at an angle to bite it, completely missing the entire top biscuit half, which I eventually removed.
Eating an open-faced biscuit helped me save room for the small stack of birthday pancakes the the chef brought out to both Mom and me. He warned us to make a wish and blow out the candle quickly, so the heat of the pancakes won’t melt too much of the candle.
Afterwards, Mom took a picture with the chef, whose family owned the restaurant.
Mom fussed over how nobody had better mess with her biscuit that I wrote her name on the to-go box in big letters. Proving that one could take the girl out of Cascade, but not the Cascade out of the girl, no matter what age!
Two days later, fourteen of us got together to celebrate Mom’s, my nephew’s, my sister’s sister-in-law, and my birthday at a steakhouse. Although I had a wonderful time, complete with delicious food and entertaining conversation, the post meal activity made my day: axe throwing!
I counted on the fact that my nephew would join me to continue our birthday celebration at another location. My nephew was so much better than me, that his handicaps were trying trick shots and knife throwing.
We were surprised when the knife stuck at the hilt rather than the blade.
Next time around, the knife, stuck as we’d expected it to do.
Of course, I had a photo celebration of my first of two bullseyes.
All in all, I won one game out of three only because my nephew was trying out trick shots, kill shots (where one had to proclaim “killshot,” then hit one of the two blue dots on the board or make a zero if the implement hit anywhere else) and knife throws. What I learned during this experience was that my mind and arms only have three games in them.
After the last game, I reminded my nephew that he hadn’t tried the double-axe throw yet.
Until the next birthday celebration…