It's actually my birthday. Hubbs has been asking me what I'd like to do to celebrate my entry into this world and ring in another year.
I had to think about this question for a good long while. Traditionally, I've thrown myself parties with all of my students, gone for multiple dinner outings with families on both sides, and generally marked the occasion as a week-long event filled with much merriment, food, and other grand festivities. This year, two out of three of my siblings (and their significant others) and my in-laws are either out of town or gearing up to be out of town on the "big day." I also have no classes to teach, coincidentally enough, but I happen to be scheduled to attend a PD workshop despite not working on Wednesdays.
In the end, I told Hubbs that I wanted to spend the remainder of the day (post-PD) shopping at West Ed. Mall. Seems sort of lame, isn't it, when I've made my birthday such a big deal in the past?
I'm not feeling my birthday this year. Maybe I will when the day arrives, but the weeks and days leading up to it haven't excited me in the least. Is it because I'm turning an unremarkable age, rather than some momentous number such as 30, or 40, or 65? Or is it because I'm stuck in this boring ol' city, which no longer excites me the way Hong Kong did, or Vancouver does? Perhaps it is because my Hubbs already spoils me to bits, so that I want for nothing. I don't know.
All I know is that unless I come up with something grand to do on Wednesday, I'll be at the big mall dragging my long-suffering, loving hubby behind me with a couple of bags in hand.