Hey! I'm turning old.

I love Exploding Dog.

It was my birthday! For the first time, in a long time, I celebrated by myself. The first birthday I had to spend mostly by myself was my freshman year of college--I had just moved into the dorms and started school and I didn't want to be THAT person that loudly celebrates their birthday. I did, however, register to vote. I also got my foot cut up by a door because some poop head wasn't paying attention and swung the door into/onto my foot and opened a gash that left me bleeding and hobbling to a convenience store to buy band aids. Although I was partially at fault for choosing to wear flip flops to class but, to be fair, it was college, I was toying with the new sense of freedom unencumbered by high school dress code guidelines--I was living on the edge. And that was my 18th birthday.

I did like my birthday this year, because I actually managed to keep myself fairly busy--unlike any other day in the life of an unemployed. I made rice krispies treats (with sprinkles in them for a bit of panache) and chocolate chip cookies for my neighbors for driving me around when I had last minute errands and Jack was off at work with the car. Then I sat down and watched my DVR'd episode of Gilmore Girls--and it was one of my more favorite episodes (Season 6, Episode 9: The Prodigal Daughter Returns). I also made a quick dinner for one of the officer wives, who had just given birth a few days before, as part of a meal plan the other spouses had set up. After I dropped off the dinner, one the way back home, I picked up a tiny ice cream cake for myself. Finally, I settled in for a night of Dancing with the Stars with chicken strips and fries for dinner.

The day felt good and I enjoyed doing the little things for my neighbors and the officer wives. It might be the wisdom of years lived creeping up on me, but I do like the idea of making my birthday a day of service--or just doing something for someone else because damn, it fucking feels good. I've now realized (or at least I am old enough to admit this to myself) that I enjoy volunteer work and doing things for others, not because it helps to foster a sense of community, to bring people together, or that it is consistent with the idea that helping each other out is just what a civilized society does because we all live in the same community, but because I get a serious high off of people saying, "Thank you for what you do. You're so awesome." Seriously. It's better than crack and just as addicting.