Well, this is it – the big 3-4.

It’s the big day, my birthday.

When I was little, birthdays were awesome. There was usually cake and presents and general festivities.

In thinking back, the best birthday I ever had was when I turned 9. That year, I was very specific in my requests. I wanted a pink acid-washed jean jacket, a canopy bed and a new softball glove.

Every morning, we had to get up at the crack of dawn to catch the school bus. At 6:20 a.m., we’d hurry down the hill to grab a ride. At 4:30 p.m., we’d jump off and trudge up the hill that was so steep you could feel your calf muscles burning with every step. In the winter, it was a miserable walk, but in the summer, you slurp on the honeysuckles and smell the jasmine in the air.

As soon as the house came into view, I could tell something was afoot. I think it might have been what I call the Lois Lane Syndrome kicking in – you know, that thing reporters have that tell them that things just aren’t right.

That day, my dad was home, a rarity since he generally didn’t make to the house until all the “feeding and weeding” or dark-30 or whichever came first. And, the yard was filled with vehicles. A strange sight, too, since we never had company.

They were waiting on the porch on usher us inside. It was mostly family, but they were there with a cake and presents, no less.

At the end of dinner, I was blindfolded and led back to my room, where – you guessed it – laid a pink acid-washed jean jacket and new softball glove atop my brand new lavender ruffled canopy bed.

Thinking about it just makes me smile.

It was, while somewhat materialist, the best day of nine years on earth.

This year, well I got a feeling about it, too. It’s going to be one for the record books, and I don’t mean marking down the fact that I’m almost one year closer to the big 4-0.

This year, my mother tried to sneak around and pull together a surprise dinner. I kyboshed that when my Lois Lane Syndrome started kicking in. Ha ha! Still, there might be some surprise left before the day’s out.

I know I have one that has made me change my mind about the very best birthday ever. I think this one is is it.

What, one might ask? I bought myself a house for my birthday, and I just can’t keep it to myself any longer.

Green Acres is the place to be! That farm livin’ ain’t for me.