Sheesh, and I thought I was bad about drawing attention to my birthday.
Actually, I am bad about that.
I've never been one to sit quietly by, assuming my friends will remember the big day and plan accordingly. Have you met some of my friends? I mean, I love and cherish them all and would be lost without them, but let's face it, they're not exactly poster children for organization and responsibility. Then again, who looks for those qualities in friends?
They're fantastic, and God bless them, they roll their eyes good-naturedly at the occasional mention that my birthday is a mere 46 shopping days away. They're also, by the way, extremely disappointed in themselves for not coining my nickname, "Demandy." That honor lies with a former boyfriend, and current friend, who is likely reading these words right now while rolling his eyes and thanking God we both ended up with the right people.
But I digress.
Birthdays are a funny thing, and the way people react to the anniversary of their birth says a great deal about them -- nothing good or bad, mind you, but it says a lot.
I for one have no problem confronting the continuing progression of years that add a digit to my age. I'll turn 38 on May 15. (That's 46 shopping days, for those of you without a calendar handy.)
Apparently, I wasn't adopted, as the apple didn't fall far from the tree, as they say.
Today, March 30, happens to be my dad's birthday.
That's right, Bob Bolen turns 67 today. He also is not afraid to face his advancing age. In fact, when we spoke Thursday evening, he had the audacity to play the "age card," when pointing out that his birthday happens to fall on a Sunday, which also happens to be the day this column runs in this paper, and online for all the world to see.
"Of course, you should write whatever you'd like to write this Sunday," he said. "Far be it from me to suggest that Sunday is my 67th birthday - 67 - and it could well be my last," he said over the phone.
I could literally hear my mom's eyes rolling on the other end of the connection.
See, she's one of those people who draws no attention to her Oct. 31 birthday. She quietly lets other people plan her special day. And to be fair, her friends are a bit more on the ball than mine. But still, I think she really means it when she says birthdays aren't about presents or parties, but are meant to celebrate family, friends and another year of altruistic accomplishments.
See? I told you that in my case, the apple didn't fall far from my father's tree.
My mom is clearly a better person than my dad and I, but who didn't already know that?
So I'll wrap up this weekend's column by wishing my dad, Bob Bolen, a happy, happy 67th birthday. (Not that this mention will come as much of a surprise to him).
But I can't sign off just yet, because tomorrow, March 31, is another important day in our family.
My brother, Kevin (you guys "met" him when he hijacked this column on my birthday last year), is more like my mom.
Never in a million years would he have suggested I ewould mention his new job in this column space. But since Dad's birthday apparently warrants 400 words, so does Kev's new job, which starts tomorrow. He never asked for any recognition, but I couldn't mention Dad's birthday without wishing my big brother all the good luck in the world as he walks into a new office in Boston tomorrow.
He doesn't need luck, as he's the smartest person I know. But I couldn't let Dad's birthday outshine Kev's new job -- Mom wouldn't have it at all.
So here goes, Key West: Happy Birthday, Dad, and congratulations, Kev, on the new job.
(I'm sure it'll come in handy when you're shopping for my 38th birthday present in, oh, 46 days ... but who's counting?)