Ghosts of Birthdays Past

So today was my birthday and to sum it up in one word, it would be mild. And that's OK. Mild and all, it was a good day. I crawled out of bed and made breakfast for the fam (damn! I had to share my b-day with Father's Day which made it kinda touchy when I tried to bark out birthday demands at Joe. Oh well, I'll make up for it next year). Then I spent no less than 2 hours cleaning the barn, which, believe it or not, is my idea of a relaxing morning. The afternoon included a lunch out, Night at the Museum a la IMAX and some time chillin' at the local arcade. Yes, a good day indeed.
But it was only 24 hours...
My past 3 birthdays have been far from mild. And more than 24 hours.
Last year Beck and I flew to L.A., stayed at the uber-nice Westin, got to hang out with a great friend and then drive to San Diego to have a reunion with some incredible kids from Beck's orphanage who have found their forever homes here in the U.S.. An absolutely wonderful, whirlwind of a trip. And Beck is a world-class little traveler.

My birthday before that I was flying home from our first trip to Kyrgyzstan. Joe and I were both required to stay the first week in country, but after that only one parent needed to remain for the second week. We had only two days notice that we were even traveling to Kyrgyzstan so I had sort of dropped my (then) 5 year old daughter and the entire horse farm into my Mother's lap and flew off. So we decided it was a good idea that I return early. So I got up at 3am and went to the Bishkek airport and flew to Moscow for a 8 hour layover. Yes, just about the longest 8 hours ever. Just picture what you think the Moscow airport would be like, and then make it FAR, FAR less glamorous... and MUCH, MUCH more dirty. Add an impenetrable cloud of cigarette smoke and a few hundred foul-mood Russians and you've got the picture. Then it was back on a plane to NY where my connecting flight to NH was postponed repeatedly until it was finally cancelled just as my 31 hour birthday was coming to a close. Ohhh the joys of flying back into time. The hellish day that never ended. Of wait, it did end, with my incredibly sleep deprived self shacking up in a sleazy pay-by-the-hour hotel with some lady who I never did get her name. Nor did I care. Hey, I had been awake for like 2 days straight... in the same clothes. I would have committed all sorts of crimes for a bed and shower. After 3 days of flying, I finally made it home.

Luckily, the birthday prior was far more enjoyable. Bev and I boarded a plane (see a pattern?) at the ass-crack of dawn and flew to L.A., enjoyed an In-N-Out Burger (but not as much as we thought we would. heh), checked into our crap-shack hotel, hit the town touring LA (read: celeb-stalking), and were studio audience members for Jimmy Kimmel Live. If I remember correctly the guests were David Hasselhoff and Bonnie Hunt (talk about picking the wrong night! If they added Yanni it would have been the Tri-fecta of snooz-a-rific asshats in Hollywood) with musical guests Buckcherry who, at the time scared me, but later I grew to love. Crazy Bitch, anyone? Again, that whole flying back into time, we were now on the 26th hour of my birthday, our In-N-Out burgers had long failed us and we set out for some grub... which proved to be difficult for some reason, maybe because we were delirious with hunger and fatigue. But a fabulous birthday nonetheless. (wouldn't it be fabulous if I had a picture right here from that wonderful trip? Yes, I think it would. But that would mean firing up the ol' external hard drive and hunting for one. And, well, that would require me getting out of bed. Which isn't gonna happen. Deal. So instead just picture, if you will, Bev and I soakin' up the sun and looking all fab in Tinseltown...ok.)
So yes, this birthday lacked long flights, angry Russians, David Hasselhoff and was only 24 hours long, but still fabulous in it's on way.
Also, Happy Father's Day to all the Daddy folk... but next year, get your own day!