You Know What They Did to Jesus?

I went to a 33rd birthday party this weekend and even though I had a fabulous time, I felt old. It isn't the highest friend birthday party number I've been to (I have lots of friends that are older than 33). And well, lots of older relatives, so I've been to their birthday parties too.

But here's the thing. I remember when I was a teenager and my Uncle Mike turned 33. Why was it so memorable? Well, my mom called him up to wish him a happy birthday and then said, "You know what they did to Jesus when he was 33?" And my mom and my uncle laughed and laughed because they grew up Catholic and Jesus and nuns are pretty funny stuff to the Catholics (as far as I can tell). Guilt, on the other hand, they take very seriously.

My parents making fun of religion was pretty darn funny to me too. It was almost as funny as my dad bitching out the Broncos on Sunday afternoons with all kinds of good swears when they didn't do well. My dad is a pretty soft spoken guy, but he has no problem coming up with all kinds of "advice" for the Broncos when they screw up that is best delivered in a tone that can be heard by the neighbors... 4 blocks down the street.

So, I'm at this birthday party with my dear friends from college at an old college hangout. And the guys are drinking beer and the girls are not (most of them are preggers and alcohol = hard times for me these days). Okay, so Will wasn't drinking beer because he hates it and Colleen was because she is awesome. But had this been 10 years ago, we all would have been drinking. Except for Will - he is impervious to peer pressure.

It occurs to me mid-way through dinner that I should ask the birthday boy, Brian, if he knew what they did to Jesus when he was 33. But then I realize that this is a bad idea because a) Brian isn't Catholic; b) it is kinda depressing if you aren't Catholic; c) it might just be depressing in general unless you are my mom and uncle.

And then I felt old for being mature enough not to blurt out a depressing topic, but also because my college friends are now the same age as my uncle once was. I mean, whatever, he was 17 once too but I don't remember that. But 33 seemed OLD when I was a teenager. My hip and cool uncle was OLD at 33.

I still have a few years to get to 33. So maybe it isn't me that is old, it is the people I hang out with. Yeah, that's it. (Shuffles off to take Metamucil and curl up in bed at 7 pm.)

2008: A Review

In 2008 I:

1. Got a bad-ass scar from my first major surgery.
2. Went to 3 beautiful weddings.
3. Traveled 94 days between March - December, mostly for work.
4. Found hope in politics again.
5. Hosted my first Thanksgiving with my awesome husband.
6. Flew quietly over the Flatirons.
7. Went to Vegas for the first time.
8. Hung out on the roof of the Denver Aquarium with my brother.
9. Had some really good times with new and old friends.
10. Got to laugh every day with the greatest guy ever.

The Beach

Growing up my family went to Michigan City, Indiana almost every summer to visit grandparents and cousins.  My mom grew up there, and we had a load of relatives still in the area.  The tradition petered off as we got older - I think the last official family trip was the summer I turned 16.  I remember having my driving permit and Granny Therese complaining that I didn't drive fast enough.  

I've been back once since 16 - work actually sent me out to South Bend (45 mins away from Michigan City) and I was able to see my Aunt Dianne & Uncle Bob.  But it was the fall, and I was there for a night.  We drove by the beach, but didn't get into the water to play.  As I drove around in my rented SUV, I had to look for street signs through misty eyes - it was no wonder I got turned around so much.  So many memories of the family the way we were when I was small.  But I had grown, and the town had shrunk, and most of the people that made the most special memories for me weren't there anymore (literally and figuratively).  It seemed like a piece of my life that didn't exist in the now.  

But things changed when my cousin, Amy, got engaged. At first, she thought she'd get married in California where she currently lives.  But sentimentality got the best of her, and the festivities were planned for Indiana for Labor Day weekend.  

When I was little, we'd stay with my grandparents - my brother, sister and I sleeping in the "bunk room" with the mural of the plane crop dusting the corn fields that my uncle painted when that was his room.  The house had one bathroom and well water that tasted nasty.  But it also had grandparents that would build us mud pits, and only get mildly upset when we headed back out to the mud pit after evening baths.  That house has been torn down and Granny Therese moved to Arizona a long time ago.

So this trip was different.  We stayed at a vacation house on the beach with GT and Aunt Mary.  And there are new people in the family. Will - who was convinced that we couldn't be going to a beach if it wasn't on the ocean (but who later recanted and even praised the virtues of a fresh water beach).  And Todd's wife, Judy.  And their daughter, Ellary, the first in the next generation of our family.  And of course, we were there to welcome Brad (or B-Rad as we lovingly refer to him) to the family through the ceremony and lot of alcohol afterwards.

But it was also the same.  My cousin, Tom, flipped through waves with us.  And we walked down to the lighthouse. And ate chili cheese dogs at Carlson's until we thought we were going to barf - and then we did it again the next day. We laughed, we bickered, we had a great time.  And I think we'll all do it again!