People who have birthdays right around the holidays have a reason to complain.
In fact, if I were them, I’d reschedule my date of birth.
With the flurry of Christmas planning, shopping, card sending, New Year’s celebrating, football hoopla, gift-thanking, un-decorating and clean-up, there’s barely a moment to breathe. No wonder thoughts of birthdays move to the back burner.
It might trouble some folks that their plight is one of being re-gifted -- or late gifted -- when their birthday suddenly looms on the calendar. Worse yet are those recycled party decorations for a quickie party.
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I suspect that anyone with a birthday in mid-December through mid-January knows exactly of what I speak. And if this is you, you have company: Stephen Spielberg, Katie Holmes, Susan Lucci and Tiger Woods share your pain.
Bill Luginbill doesn’t.
My husband likes to be overlooked, fly under the radar and slide into another year without much commotion. He shudders at the sight of a Mexican sombrero or singing waiters. If he can blend into a group of birthday celebrants, then it’s all the better.
For those of us who like the limelight, this is a strange phenomenon.
“Billy, we’re going to be with a group of friends at the Palouse Divide Lodge just before your birthday. How about if we celebrate your birthday?” I asked several days before we planned to leave.
“You know that kind of thing ages me 10 years,” he said with the tone that means business. “I’m happy to celebrate it quietly.”
OK. He can have it his way. No party hats or candles that refuse to die. But he never said I couldn’t mention it in this blog.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEETHEART!
Now, that was pretty quiet, wasn’t it?