A burst of Geburtstag festivities

I turned 37 yesterday. As ages go, 37 ranks near the bottom in terms of "importance". 18 and 21 (and zero, I suppose) are the clear leaders, with the decade dates a close second. Within the latter category, certain ones, such as 50, lead their peers. 37, though, is about as interesting as 33 or 44. At 37, one is already past the hump of "their thirties", but not yet close enough to "their forties" to evoke panic.

Nonetheless, my circumstances are a bit unique this year, so I decided to risk my pride, reputation, and hardwood floor and throw a bit of a party.

Thanks to a wonderful group of attendees, several of whom completely took over all fondue making chores, it was a success. (Those who were there, feel free to correct me...privately.)

To the extreme consternation of my German friends, I chose to celebrate on Friday, although my actual birthday was yesterday. "Who wants to stay out late -- in the hinterlands of Berlin no less -- on a Monday night?" I thought, in my practical, apparently American, way. Is anyone else thinking of the "Curb Your Enthusiasm" episode where Larry chastises Ben Stiller for having his party several weeks after the day?

Fortunately, after a few glasses of wine, everyone was able to shrug off their distate with the clear breach of chronological precision, and seemed to have fun.

A few pics of my apartment pre-festivities are scattered around these words.

I figured this was the time for the photo shoot since, truth be told, it doesn't always look this immaculate. Sorry, Mom.

The following day, I slept in, scraped cheese from fondue pots, admired the nice new stash of wine my guests had brought, and then took a long walk through the Friedrichshain Volkspark, an excellent, multi-use park not too far from me. It's got hills to climb, waterfalls, modern sculpture, tennis courts, even a restaurant that seems to rank above the simple currywurst stand you would usually find in a family park.

All this to reinvigorate myself for Doro's birthday party on Saturday at their apartment in Potsdam. I have to say, German or not, she makes a killer chili, and Christian's cake ran a very very close second to hers. Since Potsdam is an hour drive from my apartment, I spent the night in a hotel a few blocks from the apartment, then returned for brunch on Sunday.

Joined by a visiting colleague from the States, we all then wandered through the Parc Sansoucci. It was a crisp, but dry day, and the long walk felt great. Later, we checked out the progress on Christian and Doro's new house (plumbing laid, conduits cut in the ceramic block walls for wiring) then drove a kilometer to a cozy, quite great restaurant on the bank of the Wansee ( a large lake just south of Berlin which serves as beach and watersport paradise for the area).

In honor of the family of wild boar I had seen just down the road during the richtfest, I had wild boar and a glass of red wine. It had started to drizzle just as we entered, giving the whole meal that excellent "we're inside, warm and toasty" feel reminiscent of a ski lodge.

All in all, a great birthday weekend.

On Monday, at work, we announced something I've been eager to post here since February 1. Sometime after May 31, I will be leaving my company to embark on an "extended sabbatical." It probably warrants its own post, once my plans have jelled a bit more, but for now, suffice it to say that I plan to spend a few months each doing intensive refresher courses and getting certified in French and Italian. And of course, I'll have to be in country to do so! Currently, I am considering Montpellier for French, and Siena for Italian. I figure that will occupy six months. After that, we'll see. I'm more than ready to fill in any gaps with travel, photography, introspection (to the extent that I'm capable of) and cafe sitting. (I am fairly confident about my abilities in the latter area.)

After 15 years of primarily defining myself by my work, however, I would be lying if I didn't say I'm anxious about my reaction to being intentionally unemployed. Although people tend to wait until after the first glass of wine here, the inevitable question always arises sooner or later: "So, what do you do?" I may have to hold a contest here to collect good responses. Right now, I'm leaning toward, "I don't."

Cheers, all!