I haven't blogged in ages. I literally haven't had a minute lately. Between working on my teacher diploma thingey, prep for lessons, actual working/driving, maintaing the house and baby in something of a clean state, well, you get the picture. And if I do what I'm really supposed to be doing, I never do what I want to do, i.e. blog. As my Aunt Jane sent in a recent forward (thanks for that one), sometimes we just need to stop and take time for those "moments" instead of checking off chores on our perpetual to-do list. So here's a moment for me and my blog!
Before I forget, let me wish my other fellow Tauruses a happy birthday. Marnie, the same day as me, Ilona, Becca and Crystal, Emma, too, if memory serves. You go, girls! Did I forget anyone? Ever since I was little I've associated this day with mild spring weather (or tornadoes, when you're in Alabama) and strawberry cakes. My mom often made me cakes with lovely whipped frosting and strawberries on top. I've kept up the tradition here in France, teaching Remi that I'm a "berry" girl. Strawberry, raspberry, cherries, red currants...they all make my mouth water in anticipation of that perfect mix of tart and sweet.
So as a day-before-my-birthday present to myself, I bought these luscious bavaroises aux fruits rouges. A raspberry mousse filling surrounded by a thin layer of cake, topped with some lovely berries. And Remi bought me a similar type cake for my real birthday. This time it was a charlotte, same mousse filling basically but surrounded by lady fingers with a delicate sugar coating. He got the baker to write "Happy Birthday" in English on the almond paste "card". And he bought a decadent chocolate cake, too, as he was worried the charlotte wouldn't be enough for all five of us at lunch.
And finally a little post-birthday cake was had with Ilona (fellow Taurus) just this week. Yet another delicate cake with a faux strawberry made of white chocolate on top.
Yes, I was spoiled in terms of cakes and presents and even the weather (in France at least) was gorgeous- warm and sunny. It was all so lovely it almost made me forget that I'm now the big 3-6. I know most of you reading this will say 36 is still young. But doesn't that "still" imply that I won't be young forever? I went through some similar feelings last year when I turned 35. Now the scales have tipped and I'm on the less fun side of that mini-landmark. Approaching the big 4-0. I'm in good company though- so many actors and singers who are still (there's that word again) considered happening, are in my age group. But it still doesn't take the sting out of some of these frightening thoughts:
* I'm twice as old as a high school senior. Remi sometimes jokes (at least I hope he's joking) that he could trade me in for two 18-year-olds.
* I started college half a lifetime ago. The memories of moving into my dorm room and discovering the deep thoughts of English lit and sunny afternoons on the campus green don't seem so far off. But they are. When I go back to my alma mater I notice my professors have aged or retired. But I've aged, too.
* The Red Hot Chili Peppers song Under the Bridge is over 18 years old. How come those guys don't seem old? Last I heard they were still dating high school seniors themselves.
* At 36 I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Or what I might sort of want to be is nearly impossible in France or at least in my limited area. And by most standards I'm in fact already grown up. But is a girl who owns (and frequently wears) Elmo socks really in danger of being called and adult?
Well, I've got a whole year to ponder these questions. And four more years before the real panic of mid-life crisis comes. What's with our obsessions with round numbers anyway? And didn't I hear that 40 is the new 30? So 36 is the new 26! Good news like that deserves a piece of cake. Preferably with strawberries.