south of the loop

I always loved having a summer birthday. Not only is August 3 always hot and sunny, I never once had to attend school on my birthday. I felt sorry for all those poor kids who had to do homework and take tests on their birthdays—and I liked school. But birthdays should be an opportunity to have fun and set your own agenda. Sleep in, shop, eat, get a massage, hang out with friends and family. Even as an adult, I still feel this same sense of entitlement, and I do my darnedest to request my birthday off from work.

I owe (blame?) this feeling of entitlement to Mrs. W., my second grade teacher. Instead of lumping all the summer birthdays together, those of us born between the sunny days of June and the dog days of August had our classroom celebrations on our half-birthdays. For some reason this really caught on in my family, and we’ve acknowledged half-birthdays ever since—this year’s half-birthday card from my mom arrived two days ago. And why not? It’s a fun excuse to send a second birthday card to someone. I am passing the torch to my nephew, whose half-birthday is exactly two weeks after mine. Last year I got him a couple very cool board books from the Frank Lloyd Wright Robie House. Not sure yet what’s in store for him this year, when he turns a year and a half. But I hope that when he is school-aged, he’ll cheerfully demand to have his birthday celebrated on February 17 instead of lumped into a “summer birthday celebration.”

I celebrated my half-birthday this year by trying to stay warm. It is currently 2 degrees outside with a wind chill of -14. I ran a couple errands this morning and arrived back home with pink, ice-cold skin and my face covered in tears and snot. My people don’t do cold weather. And thank God my real birthday is in August—I’m not sure I’d go out to celebrate in this subzero bullshit.

* * *

current book: Just finished the title story in Philip Roth’s Goodbye, Columbus, which I really enjoyed. The problem is that I can’t figure out exactly why I enjoyed it. I can hear Advisor’s voice asking me, “What about the writing is good? You need to figure that out.” I had this same problem with Michel Houellebecq’s The Elementary Particles—its brilliance is masked by such ordinariness, and I had a tough time figuring out why it was so good. Perhaps it will become clearer the further I get into Roth.

current music: Los Super 7’s Heard It on the X and Margot and the Nuclear So-and-So’s The Dust of Retreat.

current socks: Multi-colored stripeys.

Posted 3 February 2007

Filed under: holidays, life in general by admin2

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