34

When I was younger, I thought 34 was old. Now that I'm here, I realize that the older I get, the younger everyone else is getting. My perception of old now is anyone over 100, but I suspect if I make it to that age, my perception will change.

Liz already made me a birthday meatloaf. (It was the "meat" cake I requested...) I find it funny that when asked, a meatloaf is what I would like to have for my birthday. I would have never thought at "10" that I would eventually find joy in meatloaf for my birthday. I'm also getting a Pepperidge Farm cake, rather than the traditional, buttercreamed, lump of dryness that I can't stand. I've never been much of a cake person, but Pepperidge Farm beats Buttercream Traditions any day of the week.

I already bought myself a new digital camera, and cleverly disguised it as Liz's Birthday present back in July. (I told her it was a shared thing up front though...)

At "10" I was just a kid, at "34," I'm a homeowner, a taxpayer, a professional, a husband, a movie connoisseur, an author, and most recently, a New Yorker.

I intended none of this adult life, and was content in my basement room with the aquariums, the stereo system, Papaw's old orange chair, and the lights that I kept on from 5th grade through 10th grade.

I'm satisfied, though. I like where things are, but I wish they would slow the hell down. I'm too old to time travel this fast anymore.

On a related note, I got a letter from the AARP recently, and apparently I am eligible for early admission. In light of that, I've rewritten the lyrics to the birthday song:

Happy Birthday to me,
I'm joining the AARP,
Dinner's at 4:30, and,
Bed after Jeopardy!

-Mike, newly 34.