Allow me a moment of ridiculous self-indulgence. You’d think 12 years of personal blogging would have provided me enough moments of ridiculous self-indulgence, but I am greedy. And self-indulgent.
As you may or may not know, I love my birthday. It’s the one day of the year set aside to celebrate ME! (If you want to be technical June 6 has also been designated as the day we must celebrate my youngest sister since she was born on that day too. Also my cousin Mickey. Also my cousin Mickey’s youngest son. Also, my grandparents wedding anniversary. Also WWII buffs like to talk about storming the beach and Normandy)
What I love most about my birthday, aside from the celebration of ME!, is what a perfect time of year it is. The first week of June in Minnesota is usually some glorious shit. Warm during the day, cool at night, and flowers bursting forth with gorgeous colors and beautiful fragrances. Lilacs and Crab Apples and Other Blooming Things I Don’t Know the Names of, oh my!
If I could bottle up the smell of the first week of June in Minnesota, I would and then I’d drench myself in that odor to the point where HR has to send memos about wearing too much perfume/cologne. It is, simply, the best smell on Earth, and I don’t just say that because it’s also the smell of my birthday. The birthday is just a bonus to the smell.
But this year everything’s all messed up. Thanks to 80-degree days in March and virtually no snow at all during the winter, Minnesota plants seem to think the first week of June is right now, and it’s not. There are exactly 49 days until my birthday and the crab apple trees would take kindly to pay attention to the calendar.
Today I noticed lilacs are in bloom and explained to them that despite what they think it is only the third week in April and not even close to the first week of June. Lilacs, I said, cool your god damn jets.
Mother Nature is seriously harshing my fortieth birthday buzz.