Henry is 9 today. While I realize that this is not at all about me, the truth of the matter is that what I feel most about this birthday is this: I am as old as dirt. Nine years ago, I thought I was old enough to take care of another human. I was 23, craving a camel light, and standing on De Haro Street watching the millenium fireworks over SF, muttering out, parasite. In a maternal way, of course. I tried to jump rope him out on a busy Potrero Hill afternoon. Things get ugly at 42 weeks pregnant and 50 lbs overweight. Henry was not only two weeks overdue, he was a millenium overdue. And on January 2, he finally got out, and life changed forever.. for the better.
Henry chooses what we do to celebrate. Which means the Pearl Harbor Memorial, a whole lot of Total Drama Island and for his fancy dinner of choice? Papa John's delivery. He is both a geeky and cheap date.
Our 08 ended well - another week, another party at Kaui and Andy's. While the party was great, as always, there was another exciting moment in my day. Between work and the party, I snuck in an hour run in my old neighborhood. Dog the Bounty Hunter lives two doors up from the house I grew up in. It turns out he has a teenage daughter/niece or two who are just as overweight and underdressed as his wife. And they got segways for Christmas! Alas, they were not yet very good at driving them. So I witnessed a lot of fringe, skin, and bleached hair hitting the deck in the only segway crash I will likely ever see. I am so, so sorry. But I did not have my camera on me, and while the whole fleet of big black SUVs was there, there was no camera crew on hand. Reality TV, my eye.
