Running away with the circus

Tomorrow is my birthday - and I greatly dislike my birthday. Extra attention usually makes me blush and squirm, but more than that, I’m the type to reflect on what exactly I did with the past year that was bestowed upon me. And it never seems enough.

A couple weeks ago my girlfriends and I were going over the list of what I could call accomplishments for year 27. It went something like this:

LO: You got a promotion at work!
Me: Ok, that was huge. Good one.
(Silent pause while we all think some more.)
LO: And you were employee of the month!
Me: Ridiculous, but true.
(More silence.)
Me: Ok, that can’t be it. Otherwise I’ve done nothing but work this year. And that’s just too horrible to be true.

From there, it was just grasping at straws…

You got a new roommate!
I took a couple of long weekend trips…
You went to a taping of Hell’s Kitchen.
And I negotiated lower rent!
You finally painted again…you’ve been wanting to do that forever.

I had been wanting to paint for forever. And now, this giant beauty is the apple of my living room's eye.

It was a few days later that I decided I wasn’t going to let that list stand as it was. In reality my 27th year was mostly about work, but I wasn’t going to let it go out like that.

Step 1: Appease my family…
...And spend a lovely Saturday morning sipping coffee while getting my hair cut. It wasn’t until I saw this picture after a family weekend in Arizona that I realized just how long my mane had actually become. Teen’s been threatening to drag me into Petco ever since, while my mom has all but begged.

Teen finally won. While bellied up to a bar on Friday afternoon she dug out her phone, called the salon and made an appointment for me the next morning. Enough was enough. Time to start 28 a little lighter. (P.S. It’s still long, just no longer of the Cousin It variety.)

Step 2: Act my shoe size, not my age…
...By following a great lunch on Saturday with a hilarious time at the seedy Fox Fire Room with Stacy and Teen. The $4 cocktails were flowing, as were tears of laughter. We made friends with an old man in gym socks that we referred to as “Baby.” And a couple of hours later, when we reemerged into the blinding daylight, we did what anyone would do. We went to the batting cages. Helmets on. Balls flying. Kids and their parents staring. Teen ending up with 2 bruised and swollen fingers. An afternoon to remember.

Step 3: Join the circus…
...Something I’ve always wanted to do. Years ago I loved skydiving and rappelling down a cliff and have since longed for the rush of doing something that scares the crap out of me. It was time to try the trapeze. And Teen was joining me, whether she wanted to or not.

It. Was. Amazing.

It took a lot of practice… but we flew, and finally learned how to get our knees on the bar so that we could seconds later hang from them, and even better – learned to do it all with the right timing…

And yet, what seemed like great victories was apparently mere practice for the main event: THE CATCH.

First me...

...then Teen

There are bruises, muscles that ache to the point of immobility, sunburns, skin missing from various joints… and it all feels pleasantly like a badge of honor. I did not one, but TWO catches. I don’t know how to properly explain how exhilarating it was…but I do know this: THAT is how you end a year with a bang.

Still, painting, promotion, trapeze and weekend trips aside, I think this picture is probably the most accurate of me at 27: smirking in the sunshine and sipping white wine. And when I put it like that, well, maybe this year wasn't so disappointing after all.

Stay tuned.