You Say It’s Your Birthday?

by Liz Crowe

 

It’s my birthday too yeah.

There was a time, not that long ago when the thought of “December 17^th” made me smile and wiggle in anticipation.  And I don’t mean when I was seven and anticipating a new bicycle, or 16 and anticipating a car.

I mean like just a couple of years ago when I would line up a couple of Ladies Nights Out with my peeps wherein at least one of our husbands would be called upon to rescue us from a nightclub after 2 a.m. which he would do, in exchange for the right to make fun of us for the next six months.  Not that we cared.   I’d also plan family dinners, and a couple of years in a row hosted a massive karaoke party at a cool place here in Asquared that’s set up like a “real” karaoke” bar—the kind we used to visit in Japan when we lived there.  Small and large rooms can be rented, booze and snacks can be rolled in (on the sly of course wink wink) and several hours of mayhem can ensue at the mikes.

Yeah, I’m a ham AND a karaoke mike hog, especially on my b-day. 

But last year was low key, mainly because I had just spent a mind boggling month running a bar more or less single handedly.  I was bug-eyed with exhaustion and basically ate dinner with the family at my fave restaurant and went to bed by 10.  Lame.

This year I’ve had a solid 365 days of experience handling marketing and sales for a rapidly growing craft microbrewery, had sleepless nights and frustrating days of staff issues, knock-down-drag-outs with prima donna  control freak brewers, arm wrestling matches with business partners and had two novels and 5 short stories published, 2 novellas and a series of 3 more (in a trilogy) accepted for 2012 publication.

I thought I was bug-eyed LAST year!

But the lack of sleep and near constant hum of low level, ever present stress zinging through my nerve endings has made me accept a few things. 

I am officially 45 years old today.  Yes. I said it.  Five years shy of 50.  Jesus. And I mean that in a totally “He is born today” sort of way. 

I cannot control what others think of me. I can only control the way I act around them when they are a**holes.

I cannot make people like my books or my beer.  I can only make both things as good as I know how (with a lot of very excellent editorial and prima-donna brewer assistance).

Christmas is still coming, no matter how many times I shut my eyes and ignore it.  I’m a class A procrastinator when it comes to shopping of ANY sort. But I will get it done.  I know this.

If I read one more “Dear Santa This is What All Writers Want” blog post or hear one more colleague ask me for my “ideal Christmas six pack” my skull may explode.  But hey, it’s that time of year. So it’s cool. 

Today I’m celebrating in a very special and unique way.  My spouse (who was one of the WORST when it came to “ha ha ha you girls acted like idiots when I picked you up” offenders even into June of the following year) got us tickets to see my beloved Louisville Cardinals play basketball in Louisville against Memphis in the shiny new b-ball arena downtown.  I’m also having a little pre-game beer brunch hosted by my pals the owners/brewers of the Bluegrass Brewing company AND my bestie/college roomie is joining us for the day!

Go CARDS.

Go Forth and celebrate.

Jesus Christ is born (in a few days) but I was born today.

Liz