I love birthday parties, but it's been a while since I had one for myself. In law school, my birthday fell right at the beginning of finals. There was no time for cake and ice cream or anything except feeling guilty about not studying more.
Usually by the time my birthday rolled around my brain was whimpering something like, “You have to stop thinking about Iqbal and Twombly now because I’m full. You’re replacing your ability to tie your shoes and ride a bike with lists of favored and disfavored defenses. I have a splitting headache, but you have actually lost the intellectual capacity to break past a child-proofed bottle of Tylenol. Stop.”
And at that point – even if it’s your birthday – all you can do is move your laundry to the drier, and then IRAC pleading standards for three more hours. And in those three hours, I swear, you lose a little bit of your humanity. No decent human being would keep working, but you have to. So you set aside your “limits,” establish new boundaries, and become a Master Robot of Civil Procedure.
But not this year.
This year, Chris decided we would have a Four Birthdays Party: a party to celebrate turning 27, and 26, 25, and 24... which went uncelebrated due to law school finals. Every hour, on the hour, we sang happy birthday, blew out candles, and cut a new cake.
A funfetti cake, for the birthday I celebrated in the Castro. A chocolate fudge cake, which is a tastier version of our wedding cake. A citrus cake, for the year I graduated from a California law school and passed the California bar. And a carrot cake, for this year, when I've finally been able to celebrate the holidays like a normal person. We also had a brown butter pumpkin cake, my friend Julie brought a hilarious cake with my picture on it, and my friend Meredith brought a delicious chocolate orange cake.
It was a lot of cake, a lot of sparkling cider, and a lot better than the last three years.