Why Half Birthdays Are Halfway Worth Thinking About

It was my half birthday yesterday. I am 23.5-years-old plus one day. I have breathed approximately 147,742,620 times and blinked an estimated 188,000,000 times in my life.

How come we don't celebrate half birthdays? For my half birthday, I ate half a sandwich at Jason's Deli (tuna melt), watched half of the teeny-bopper film Nancy Drew which stars Julia Roberts' half-size niece, half-watered my garden since it snowed the day before, and was a half minute late to a job interview I was only half interested in. I didn't even realize it was my half birthday until it was half over. Man I'm good.

I wonder what it would be like if we measured ourselves by half-years instead of full years. I would be 47-half-years-old instead of 23-years-old, which would make me feel much more legitimate because bigger numbers seem more powerful; they are the sages of the numeric world, the digits that don't leave the house very often anymore and ask you to dial a phone number for them because they can't see those small, less powerful numbers on the phone.

With half years instead of full years, our calendars would be shorter, which would be great because it means I get to buy TWO calendars in 12 months and wouldn't have to decide between an impressionist art calendar and an Office calendar. I GET BOTH.

I once threw a surprise half-birthday party for my friend Chelsea. Her birthday is in the summer when all the roommates were leaving, so we did a surprise party on February 25th. We frosted half of the cupcakes and decorated half of the party room and invited only half of her friends (just kidding, they were all there). I bet she had only half as much fun than she would have on her real birthday, and I am half sorry for that.

I was at the half-year mark yesterday, but today I am already on my way to a full year. In contrast to yesterday, today I made and ate a full sandwich for lunch (chicken, swiss, and tomato melt), finished the Nancy Drew movie, watered my garden completely, and accepted a full-time job. Maybe half-years are lucky: whatever you start on the half-year mark is sure to be finished on its way to the full year.

That's worth at least half of a thought, isn't it?

No, it's YOUR turn to blog

I know, I know, it's MY turn to blog... I haven't been blogging because I have been in transition for the past month. First of all, I graduated! The best part was the party I had that night with my family. Think fajitas, balloons, cards, pictures, and a very delicious cake. (I would put up some pictures, but my dad took the camera to St. George with him. Check facebook later).

The day after graduation, I went with Kyle to visit his brother in Seattle. This was so fun for me because I grew up in Seattle in the city just next to where we were staying.

We flew on a plane. I hate flying because I always get sick (and flying Southwest is usually a smelly experience). But I look pretty cheerful here.

The first thing we did was visit my favorite childhood park: Farrel McWhirter Park in Redmond, WA. What's cool about this park is that it is an older, natural park. Visitors hike through trails in the woods, dead wood is left to rot (which enriches the soil), and streams are carefully preserved and protected from erosion.

Why yes, we are balancing on logs. And yes, the camera was on a timer. Isn't all that foliage gorgeous? That's pretty much how it is everywhere in the Northwest.

I like to make myself dizzy on the tire swing.

And Kyle likes to look goofy by the horse pasture. I put a baby daisy on his coat zipper.

We also visited my old elementary school, Hollywood Hill Elementary, in Woodinville. It is this little school hidden in the woods that emphasized creative writing and ocean life in the Puget Sound.

At the school, we visited the memorial sites of my teacher who died of cancer and my sister's friend who died from an accident.

Susan Holmberg was my 2nd grade teacher. She taught all her students ASL to the song "What A Wonderful World." At her school memorial service, all her former students were invited to perform the song together. I was in 5th/6th grade then. There were so many of us at the memorial that got up and remembered all the ASL to the song.

Betsy Anderson was my sister's friend who was run over by a bus right in front of the school. It was a terrible tragedy for the family.

We also drove in my old neighborhood. We wanted to stop and take a picture, but an old man was out in the front yard and we didn't want to look like crazy stalkers. So I snapped a picture as we drove slowly past it... Because that's not as creepy?

I love this house. I spent ages 2-12 here. We had these great horse trails behind the house where we would spend all summer hiking and picking blackberries.

Here we are in downtown Seattle:

We bought some seedless grapes from a man in exchange for him taking this picture. The most expensive non-professional photo ever, haha.

I used to love coming to Pike Place Market as a kid, and visiting it again was just as fun. I wrote a short paragraph as part of a creative essay about Pike Place:

"The smell of fresh fish wafts in the air as I watch king salmon being tossed above my head. Hoh! The fish sellers yell to each other as they cast their arms out and catch a flying fish in a bundle of newspapers. The grungy market is damp with new rainwater and the plenteous seafood gives it a harbor-feel, as if a wharf itself on the Seattle waterfront. As a little girl, I remember walking with my father among the flower and fruit stands toward my favorite shop. When we arrived at the market in the morning, we'd look on at the fish counter, amused at the first-time visiors marveling at the "flying" fish, until I begged my father to buy me mini-donuts, fresh fish'n chips, and take me to the nick-knack shop."

Well, this post is getting too long, so I will post the second part of the trip in an upcoming post. I have some awesome pictures from visiting La Conner and Whidby Island. I will just end this by saying how nice it was to go back to my roots after 11 years of being gone.