My boyfriend and I spent the May long weekend in Kamloops visiting my family. It was my first time meeting my youngest nephew, Killian, and it felt like too long since I’d seen his older brother Blaize, not to mention my sisters and my mother. It was a wonderful blurry weekend of Irish cream and coffee with my mother and adorable little baby nephews. Clearly, I was in need of a new iPhone app. →
Tomorrow is my 32nd birthday. Hoo boy! I have no idea how I managed to get that old. I also have no idea how I’m going to celebrate it. I work tomorrow, so I’ll spend the majority of the day being very nice to other people. Come to think of it, I don’t remember the last birthday that I didn’t work. Maybe my “hoo boy” is more like a “ho hum”, or whatever the kids say these days.
But it’s not all stifled yawns and weighty sighs.
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I was in high school when Late Night With Conan O’Brien first started airing. I think I was new enough for high school for it to have been middle school in most regions. I don’t remember exactly because that was roughly forty-seven years ago.
And I don’t usually bring up disowned relatives, but there was a particularly eventful time in my life when I realized that my uncles were especially disownable. My mother, my sisters and I were living in a house that they owned, and we finally found a new place in a new town. We anticipated the move with glee and post-dated relief. My uncles were assholes and we were finally getting away from them. I had just graduated high school, and I was in a period of limbo between high school and college, sticking around at home to help take care of my youngest sister, who had recently been diagnosed with autism. I didn’t have a lot going on. I didn’t have a lot of confidence. I watched a lot of television.
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