So my birthday is next week. This feels mad to me as the year just started, didn’t it? And of course two days after my birthday I depart on the giant Fairyland tour.
There were plans for a party in Philly but finances mean we can’t go to the thing in Maryland that made a party in Philly doable, so we’re in the process of cancelling pretty much all of my birthday plans. I have to be in Orlando two days post, so we thought maybe Disneyworld, but finances struck again. This makes me a sad panda, because as most of you know, having had it forgotten as a child and regularly spending it alone as an adult in my previous marriage, I am a freak about my birthday. Plus, I was born in May, which is a the busiest month in publishing, it seems and b. the month when everyone else ever was born.
Yet this year, I keep having to remind myself that I’m having one. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism surrounding not really getting one. I’m grateful my Chicago friends made an impromptu birthday for me a couple of weeks back, because I think that’ll be my only celebration this time around.
WOE. It’s such a little thing, but it hits right in my neurotic center of X family member didn’t love me with cake when I was little. Bleh.
I did get an Easter this year, with children and everything! One of our island-friends had us over for ham and hiding eggs for smaller humans, which I’d never done and was great fun.
I’ve been mostly busy writing…let’s add it up…about 20,000 words of Fairyland-adjacent fiction for your future delight (prequel, liner notes, bestiary, web fiction, etc) and trying desperately to get everything done before I leave which will almost certainly not happen.
In a little more than a month, I’ll be in Australia. The minds spins.