My Mother has informed me that on the 29th anniversary of my birth (a Sunday) she has a margarita night planned with her rather raucous bunch of friends and asks if it’s all right if we celebrate my birthday in the afternoon during lunch. I suggest that why not just attend margarita night and make it all about me. She is in favor of this plan.
Unless, say I, there is some sort of eternal wisdom that you and Dad need to impart to me in private. Unless there is some kind of clandestine passing on of the adult keys upon turning 29 that requires privacy.
“Oh no,” she says.
“There is no secret to life and the grand majority of us are just winging it?” I ask.
“Pretty much,” she says.
I guess adulthood happens when you learn to accept and embrace a concept like that. Adult happens when you learn to enjoy it. Adulthood happens when you successfully fool younger folks into thinking you know what’s going on and gleefully watch as they flounder around, thinking themselves stupid for not understanding anything at all.
Two years ago, a young woman in my presence (a full 18, i believe she was) informed me that when she “grew up,” she wanted to be “just like me.” I didn’t slap her. Instead, I smiled, nodded and replied cryptically, “Maybe.”
I’m an adult.
I will speak. I may or may not know what I’m talking about.
So without further ado, let us blog…
