Hey, happy birthday to me!
Something I learned today is that I do not take photos on my birthday. It’s a historical fact.
Garrett and I met friends at the lake and kayaked. I loaned out my drybox and once again had forgotten the GoPro, so I didn’t take pictures. For the first time kayaking on the lake, I got soaked as wakes from passing boats slammed into my blue Tupperware kayak and broke against the sides. I didn’t take any pictures on land either, not even of the Hello Kitty cupcakes or the princess in her pink booty-ruffle pants. It was a beautiful day, but you’ll have to take my word for it in lieu of photographic evidence. The rest of the day we saw a movie (the wonderful Lynell watched the baby) and had sushi.
I love looking at the “today last year” pictures. Mine go back to 2008. An average day yields several “today in X year” photo clusters. The days before and after my birthday are represented by five years, but my birth date only has photos from 2010. That day, Garrett had my roommate sneak red roses into my dorm room, and later we had a picnic at the park. He had a curly afro and I had braces.
I expect the missing years of birthdays are documented in my Moleskines in some form (like with the movie tickets), but it’s interesting that I historically do not take photos on my birthday when I take photos all the time otherwise. It wasn’t even aware that I haven’t been taking photos on my birthday. Maybe I was intent on enjoying the day and declined trying to capture it, but it wasn’t intentional.