Today is Boo’s 20th birthday. Remember that, cause I’ll come back to it.
Because I have completed the bulk of the writing and editing of The Project of Doom, I took tonight off. I haven’t jacked with paper crap or shackled myself to the computer desk, pouring over a 35-page document that is still somehow missing SO MUCH information that I had wanted to infuse into it. I didn’t do that. I put it away.
Navy Bryan, his new fiance, Joanne, Zack and I went go eat Indian food. We sat at the table for hours and chatted over Chicken Tikka Marsala, Vindaloo and a carafe of wine. When we got back to the house, Zack and I crash landed on the couch. I started watching episodes of My So-Called Life–a show that has been patiently waiting for me in my Netflicks instant queue for quite some time.
springmore: I was such a goody two-shoes in high school that I thought Angela Chase (My So-Called Life) was a bad girl.
sarahthe: @springmore I am watching that right now for the first time ever
springmore: @sarahthe I watched it tonight too! Thank God for Netflix. Most depressing thing ever: I sympathized with all the grown-ups.
sarahthe: @springmore haha. That’s how I know I’m really old. When I watch shows like this and I’m like, “Gawd, they’re getting audited!? That blows!”
The twitter conversation reminded me of a real life conversation I had with Dad a few years ago about my little brother Boo. (It’s only fair to mention a Dad story on Boo’s birthday. Don’t want the Dad vs. Boo count to get lopsided.)
A few years ago, in the midst of a stretch of dreary weather, Dad and I were talking on the phone about how the rain was ruining all our fun. Dad noted that the rain wasn’t slowing Boo down at all. He was going through a phase where playing sand volleyball in the middle of the night was the coolest thing in the world. Apparently Boo and his friends didn’t bother to stop playing volleyball just because it was raining and the courts were muddy. They just played anyway.
I was a little bit disgusted when Dad told me that. I was like, ugh. That would be so, so dirty. Gross. Dad laughed and said that it didn’t matter, because he hadn’t had to deal with the mess. In order to hose themselves off, Boo and his friends had driven to the local public pool, launched themselves over the fence, and jumped in.
Dad was laughing when he told me that story. The kind of laugh that a parent laughs when his grown-up child does something wrong, and maybe a teeny bit illegal, but also kind of funny. I laughed at the situation, too, but the first comment I made was something like, “Oh my God. I feel so sorry for whoever has to clean out the pool’s filters. There has to be a ton of sand in there now.”
Then Dad started to laugh even harder. He said that his reaction had been the very same one. He said he hadn’t realize how old I was, but that my statement had proven to him that I’d officially crossed over into adulthood. If I was more concerned about the pool filter than I was amused by the irreverence of youth, I was old. There was no two ways about it.
I was convinced at that moment that I was a real grown-up. But if I hadn’t been, I would have become convinced tonight. While watching a show about teenage angst, I was most emotionally moved by the fact that the show’s heroine’s parents were being audited by the IRS.
The first time I came to grips with my adulthood, it was because of Boo’s outrageous adventures. The second time was on Boo’s 20th birthday. This can’t be a coincidence.
So, Boo, happy 20th birthday. I hope that someday soon I will have the privilege of making you feel like an old person, as you have so consistently done for me. I love you. Welcome to your 20′s.