One of the best ways to get readers’ (and, therefore, editors’) attention is to use superlatives. If something you write about is the biggest or smallest, best or worst, or better yet ONLY or FIRST, then chances are you’ve got a winner of an idea. However, the problem with such thinking is that it can warp you.
For example, yesterday was the worst birthday ever. WORST. I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that the non-stop stress from things I’ve mentioned in passing (but are truly hideous) over the last six months resulted a total meltdown in more than one loved one in my immediate circle. TOTAL. My day was anything but happy.
The funny thing is that I’m not particularly “big” on birthdays. I’m really not, but this year — of all years — I needed it to be something other than what life has been like lately. It needed it to be better, even if only a little.
It wasn’t. I lost it. End of story.
But, I kept the spa appointment Tom scheduled for me. (Thanks, sweetie!) I baked in the sauna. I poached in the steam room, and I simmered in an industrial hot tub with enough jet power to blast me into the middle. Then, I had a nice massage and got decent take-out Chinese on my way home.
It helped. It really did.
But, much like the ghost of pain that remains after a migraine recedes, it’ll forever be known as the WORST birthday ever.
But, while I worked to shake myself loose from the immediate drama so that I could find a seed of calm, it reminded me of our earlier discussions:
- My obsession with The Streak – where I get superstitious about things going well (or not)
- And this gem from Steinbeck’s East of Eden:
“And it never failed that during the dry years the people forgot about the rich years, and during the wet years they lost all memory of the dry years. It was always that way.”
It’s true in life (mine, at least), and it’s true in dog training.
I’m riding the ups and downs the best I can. I truly am, but once in a while, this girl has a pity party, especially on her birthday when it feels like everything totally sucks.
Don’t worry too much about me, though, because my day ended a bit like this. I actually sacked out and drooled all over my long-suffering husband, with Lilly on one side and Ginko on the other.
Oh, KB … we will celebrate for real at some point when things calm down and when we have the time.
So sorry Roxanne. Seriously, I’m bummed for you.
Maybe you can declare another birthday. I’m really serious. A few years ago, I was in the hospital on my bday so we decided that my bday was actually 2 months later that year! It was fun.
Speaking of The Streak, that’s one piece of advice you’ve given me that has stuck with me pretty well. I used to be so concerned about that stuff, and now I think I do a LOT better. So, thank you, thank you, thank you!
I’m so sorry your birthday was less than enjoyable. I can only imagine what must have went on. At least the spa session sounds like it was worth it.
What I was quoting was: “I actually sacked out and drooled over my long-suffering husband, with Lily on one side and Ginko on the other.”
That *is* everything. Worth repeating.
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Being able to do that … that is everything.
From a writerly perspective: gorgeous post. When you’ve got that going, you’ve got a whole lot else going, too.