Tomorrow is my birthday!
I love my birthday. I’m not so sure about the numbers that seem to be escalating alarmingly, but I just avert my eyes from that and be happy because it’s MY DAY!
MINE!
And, I think March 15th is the best day to have a birthday for the following reasons:
1) You can say “Beware the Ides of March” instead of “twelve more shopping days until my birthday.”
2) It is one week before the start of spring, which gives one a running start at new year’s resolutions.***
3) It makes one a Pisces, which is great. We are highly sensitive, I would even say slightly psychic people. Shut up, I said psychic, not psychotic. Although I would say that the fish tends to live in the underwater of the sub/unconscious and has trouble bringing their (Okay, MY) creative life on to dry land.
4) It makes one not only a Pisces, but a Pisces on the cusp, which sounds like I’m on the brink of greatness and who doesn’t want to be great? I was told that March 15th is the beginning of the astrological year, (I don’t know if it’s true, someone TOLD it to me, so I don’t have to prove it, they do) so March 15th is the day that witches are born. I’m not a witch but it’s kind of cool to believe I’m born on the day that deeply connected, supernatural creatures are born. Perhaps that’s why I’ve played so many sprites, wizards, fairies and if truth be told, crazy people (who are said to be off with the fairies, or pixielated).
*** I believe that the reason that New Year’s resolutions fail is because our new year is actually at the TOTALLY wrong time of year to be making New Year’s resolutions. How, in the middle of the dark of winter are we supposed to re-make ourselves? All I want to do is nap in January and February (see post OF WINTER MELANCHOLY). Then, I was made aware of what should be a totally obvious fact, that January, did not used to be the start of the new year. March was the start of the new year. Think about it, September = 7, October = 8, November = 9, December = 10. Now count backwards. If December is the tenth month that makes March the first. Some emperor somewhere wanted the start of the year to be named after him and COMPLETELY SCREWED US OVER in the process. All these years, we’ve been beating ourselves up because we thought that change is hard. Well, okay, change IS hard, I certainly don’t dispute that. But how much harder is it when we’re at the lowest point in our energy cycle? Go with the natural flow of the seasons I say. I hereby declare: The new New Year is the First Day of Spring. The Vernal Equinox. Start resolutions from a place of balance (however tentative) and burgeoning life (however green and tight the bud).
Christina descends from her soapbox.
So, I’m glad you stopped by. Leave me a birthday limerick in the comments. I dare you. Extra points if you use the word purloin.
Tentative Equinox North
Tentative Equinox 
The Birthday Girl’s order to write
a poem for her I’ll not fight
As I haven’t the coin —
and would never purloin —
A big birthday candle to light.
A feeble attempt…
There once was a month they called March
Near a City adorned by an arch
Purloined on a whim
Christina did swim
down the channel
To be born by a larch.
Happy Birthday.
While Christina thinks the Ides is cool
And writes about fish in a pool
Her sister is drinking
Purloined Guinness and thinking
Her Paddy’s day birth is the crown jewel.
Happy Birthday!
(note to those not from the US: the Iowa city mentioned in this limerick is pronounced ‘deh MOYN’. Honest.)
There once was a girl from Des Moines
who wished to Christina enjoin
She bid her “Be good
on your birthday. You should!”
Said Christina, “I’d rather purloin.”
A Birthday rhyme C said to coin
So I thought that the fun i would join
In her birthday suit
The colour is moot
As it has less than one cloth per loin
I have two sisters born two days apart.
Of one: “New Years”, t’other St. Paddy’s, good start.
I am purloining each of their own
Limerick. Happy Birthday! I’ll Phone!
I’ve (idiom! Not Really!) killed two fish with one stone.
Thre once was a gal named Christina
You’d know her, if ever you’d seen her
She’s a pure ball of fire
and she’ll never retire…
If she were born 2 days later, she’d be greena..
The above limerick was sent by Lin B. to me on Facebook. But I thought I would share it with readers here. Especially because I come off quite well in her description of me.
Christina
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