Taylor turned twenty-seven yesterday.

*cue “27” by the magnificent Passenger:

twenty seven years now / only thing I know / I know that I don’t know how / to please everybody all of the time / ’cause everybody’s always fucking changing their minds

When we were young birthdays were super exciting; you all know how it used to be in the days of our youth. We got cards in the mail with money in them, donuts for breakfast, Mom planned us themed fun-filled parties (some of my most memorable were dinosaurs, cats, and pirates), and we’d get a day off from all of our chores. For 24 hours everyone just had to be nice to you, cause it was your birthday.

These days we really don’t do too much to celebrate birthdays in our family; more often than not we just give a few gifts and have a nice meal and dessert. We’re lucky if everyone remembers to send us a “happy birthday” text, and why does the money always stop when you need it most!? Like, we have bills to pay now. What’d we need it for when we were 6??

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