Today is 07-07-07 and for a lot of people, it's supposed to be a big, lucky day. Brides all over the world are getting married, hopeful gamblers are rushing out to buy lottery tickets-- And I'm celebrating my birthday.
Not my seventh or my seventieth, but a birthday all the same (and a number somewhere in the middle of seven and 70). It's always been nice, having 7-7 as my birthday, because for one, it's easy to remember, and for another, it's smack-dab in the middle of the year. When I was a kid, that was perfect for replenishing my toy stack.
The only drawback? I never got to take the day off from school or bring in cupcakes for the class. This year, despite the triple sevens, we won't be making a big deal out of my birthday here. My husband and I are at the age where we pretty much buy what we want when we want it, and we're in the middle of doing house upgrades, so our dollars are going toward fun things like lighting and countertops.
But that's okay--because it's still a lucky day in a hundred other ways. I've got my kids. My husband. And a closet full of shoes. What more can a girl ask for? (Okay, I did buy three new pairs of shoes last week, so there was an early birthday gift--happy birthday to me).
I'm not happy about the getting older part (who is?) because every time I look in the mirror, some older woman looks back, someone I don't recognize, because at some point, I stopped at 25 and quit aging. Mentally, at least. My kids, however, think I'm about as cool as an octogenarian, and might as well give it up now and invest in a bed in a nursing home.
Before I do that, I think I'll order an extra slice of cake (no way I'm cooking tonight) and raise a margarita or two to me. After all, it's 7-7-7. A lucky day, particularly for a birthday. And on the way home, just to cover all my bases, I think I'll buy a lottery ticket.