Today was my birthday. It was pretty good, I guess. At least, the things wrong with it were my own fault, like running 3.5 miles and then scrubbing three bathroom floors; my knees certainly feel like the knees of a 44-year-old.
One of the smashing successes of the day was my birthday party. Previously, I've had two birthday parties. With a birthday right after Christmas, it was difficult to catch my friends in town, or not busy with visiting family. In 1985 my mother tried to orchestrate a party for me and one kid (sometimes-commenter Erik) showed up. She tried to play it off like Erik had just come over to play, but then Erik asked, "When are all the other kids going to get here?" They never did.
In 1989 I realized that, if I wanted something done correctly, I had to do it myself. I rode my bike to the store to buy invitations, then distributed them at school. One kid showed up. We watched Big-Top Pee-Wee, a puzzling choice when you consider I'd seen the movie in the theaters and so was under no pretension regarding its merits.
But reflecting the fact that 2013 is the year that "everything's coming up A Random Stranger," so to speak (phrase held-over from 2012, where it proved untrue), I figured I'd get a head-start on the awesomeness and have a birthday party. I mentioned to my wife earlier this week that we should invite over some friends. She sent an e-invite to four couples and all four RSVPed affirmatively.
Three of the four came tonight. (One got the flu, which is going to some extreme lengths to avoid my party. My hat is off to them.) So I just had a birthday party with seven attenders. Discounting my wife, who couldn't really not come, and counting a couple as one attender instead of two, it still blew away both my previous parties, combined. (And the party reaches "epic" proportions (for me) if you count the children watching a movie in the basement. We had 20.75 people* here tonight!)
* = One woman is 30 weeks pregnant.