27

It’s official, as of 5:45am on March 14th I’m out of my Caamp’s 26 year, and into my Passenger’s 27 year.

So although at 26 I did not get married just for kicks (and move out to Alaska way up there), at 27 I do know that I don’t know how to please everybody all of the time, ’cause everybody’s always fucking changing their minds.

(and if you haven’t heard either of these songs…I’m sorry, but it’s time you enlighten yourself)

I kinda wanted to buy some number candles for the occasion, but then I thought that I could just make something for free…so I did

The crocuses have showed neither their flowers nor their greens yet, but the first snowdrops officially opened on my birthday, and the glorious spring weather was fully and completely appreciated.

The moon reached total eclipse status by 3am here on March 14th, and although I woke up (by chance) at the perfect time to moon gaze, the sky was thoroughly covered with a thick layer of clouds (quite unfortunate, since it had been clear when I went to bed, and was clear again when I woke up in the morning).

Even though I did not see the glowing orange moon in all her full glory, I still consider it a good omen for the year ahead.

It was only last year that we watched the total solar eclipse on a grassy hill on Riley Mae’s birthday, what’re the odds??

I used Mom’s wedding glass as my prop, and the unremovable sticker on the base proudly states that it’s 25% lead crystal

Ever since the age of themed birthday parties ended, birthdays have been pretty chill in our house. Especially since they have a tendency to suck if you have a lot of expectations surrounding them (I think we’ve all learned that the hard way).

So although my dear mother baked me a delicious chocolate cake (with almond frosting, upon request), that was pretty much the extent of the celebration (also: upon request).

My gift was to be left alone to take my annual birthday photos.

Every time I think that I take too many self portraits, I remember that when my great-gramma died and we went through her old documents and photographs we found countless professionally-taken portraits of her throughout every era of her life.

Not only when she was a young brunette beauty in her teens and twenties, but also when she was a plucky sixty-something woman with bleached blonde hair, rockin’ a jean jacket with the collar popped (god, I love her).

So I know she’d be rather pleased with me for documenting my journey to look back on when I’m old and white (which may not be too long away, given the fact that ya girl has a couple white hairs atop her head which decided to appear last year. I don’t mind, but the end is certainly nigh).

So here’s to Gramma B, may I be just as fabulous, although I am quite certain that I will not leave behind as grand a legacy