Yesterday was the Ides of March. It was the day Julius Ceasar was assassinated by the Roman Senate. The phrase, "Beware the Ides of March," was made famous by William Shakespeare in his play about Julius Ceasar. It now tends to have a connotation of doom. But as with many of those types of phrases, I doubt many people know or care where it came from or even know what it means anymore.
This would probably explain why I got odd looks yesterday when I randomly went around saying, "Beware the Ides of March." It really freaked out these Girl Scouts selling cookies outside the Safeway. I thought for a moment their mother was going to dial 9-1-1. That's what I get for trying to interject a little sophisticated humor in people's lives.
I was born near the Ides of March on March 18. I try not to read anything prolithic in that. But I usually do have a feeling of impending doom as my birthday nears. I used to celebrate it on St. Patrick's Day until I started doing my family tree and made the horrific discovery that it is highly unlikely that any of my ancesters originated in Ireland. So I'm back to celebrating on March 18 (which is just as well since that green body paint is a pain to wash off).
It's not an age thing, either. I stopped fretting about becoming middle aged after hitting 40 (which was celebrated by my friends taking me to a Hooters restaurant where I had to stand on a table while the waitresses threw chicken wings at me...it's a long story). I just have never really liked my birthday. For one, my mom wasn't big on us celebrating birthdays. Her interpretation of Christian Scientist teachings was that, since our material body didn't exist, birth and death were an illusion and birthdays didn't make sense (try explaining that to a five year old who really just wants cake and presents). Oh, she still made us a birthday cake and we did get presents, but each year she tried to tone it down a bit. By the time I turned 13 she just wrapped up a package of jockey briefs and tossed it to me on the morning of my birthday.
I have since switched to boxers (too much information, I know).
Another thing I've never really liked about birthdays is being the center of attention. I know this is very difficult to believe about a man who has superimposed his face on quesadillas, kalamata olives and more recently a Timber Wolf, but I am really quite shy. I never know how to react in a restaurant when the servers run out with a cake, slap a lobster bib around your neck, pop a bedpan on your head and sing happy birthday while beating a bass drum. It's even more embarrassing when it is your birthday.
Okay, maybe the whole age thing does tweak me a bit. I just think that whole "walk into the light" thing they associate with your soul leaving your body is very likely the candles on your last birthday cake. That makes it very hard to make a wish.
On that happy note, I'll leave you with Ceasar's last words on the Ides of March, "Etu, Brutus?"
Wishing you a very happy birthday!
How many birthday spankings will you be getting?
Thank you again, Cherish! As for the spankings, I imagine just one. Now as to how many swats...well...let's just say enough :)
All this time I thought it was the "Eyes" of March.
Happy Birthday Tim. I loved the wolf photo. I've heard people say that we tend to resemble our pets but... this is getting ridiculous.
Ugh. Our family has totally messed up birthdays.
Have an excellent and outstanding Saturday birthday.
If someone points out something wrong with your cake ignore them and eat it anyway. You may find out what cockroach tastes like but at least you'll have the satisfaction of knowing you foiled any attempts to push your face into the frosting - In your face karma!
First, Happy nuther day closer to death. Second, it just so happens that the wife will be celebrating her birthday, you guessed it, on the 18th of March (I won't mention the epoch out of respect). So, that explains alot. I get along famously with Picies. I knew there was something fishy about you, dude.
I also have love/hate relationship with birthdays. There is no earthly possibility that I will ever get what I want on my birthday, present wise, so I just accept whatever I get with grace. As soon as I turned 21, the years picked up speed and zipped by untill I suddenly ended up older than I ever cared to be, but now that I'm here, I just enjoy still being here. I approach April 15th with alot more dread than my birthday. I can't take it with me, but they can sure take it away from me.
I am hereby officially correcting "picies" to read "pisces".
Thank you Shandi. I'm sure some people also think it was "The Eyes of Laura Mars," too (bad movie with Faye Dunaway in the 80s).
Glad you liked the wolf photo. I used Photoshop layers by first wah wah wah wah WAAwah. It was simple.
Thanks for the birthday wishes R. Just remember I taught you a valuable life lesson by shoving your face in that pumpkin pie. You'll have your turn when I'm in a nursing home.
And the Michael, thanks for the birthday wishes (and the reminder of my mortality). Please extend mine to your wife as well...the good wishes that is. You are truly blessed to be with a Pisces. Her old soul can teach your toddler Aries soul a few lessons. :)
Post a Comment