Needing a jump-start on her birthday

I'm not one of those who whines about getting older -- as the saying goes, it beats the alternative -- but I really don't like my birthday. My little brother's is on July 2, so he always got fireworks for his celebration. But the end of February? I got colds.

If Valentine's is an artificial holiday created to sell cards, candy and feelings of superiority among those who have romantic partners, then birthdays are a way to enforce introspection. Where are you now? What have you done? Are you worth the space you are taking up on this planet?

I'm sorry, but with a birthday in the wettest, coldest, nastiest part of winter, my deepest, most introspective questions are along the lines of "Where did the sun go?" and "Why aren't there marshmallows in my hot chocolate?"

I have to say, though, this year's was better than most. I got serenaded at work by my boss -- with a great old Grateful Dead tune at that -- and scores of people dropped by my desk or e-mailed me with birthday wishes. My husband even remembered without being reminded, and my youngest made my present all by himself. We had a snack party with wonderful artichoke dip and strawberry cake and I had fun writing all about the secret life of bees.

Not too bad, all things considered. It was almost enough to make me forgive my van for its dead battery, leaving me stranded at Fisherman's Park over lunch.

After I finally figured out how to open the hood (which is a clue to my mechanical aptitude), I realized that I had no clue. I can jump off cars, but I tend to need jumper cables and another car. This was one of those rare moments when there was no one at the park with me and I debated life, death, and having to walk up the hill to a service station.

I almost said the dreaded words out loud. I actually almost said, "It could be worse."

Anyone who is a "Young Frankenstein" fan knows what happens next.

Igor: "Could be worse."

Dr. Frankenstein: (Incredulous look as he struggles to lift 300-pound body from a grave.) "How?"

Igor: "Could be raining."

(CUE Thunder, sheets of rain.)

But I held my tongue and the rain hesitated. By that time, at least three Good Samaritans stopped to help, none of whom had jumper cables, but all of whom had cell phones, so I was able to call for help, get it, and get back to work. Next stop: some place to buy a new battery.

Sometimes I hate being a grown up. The battery I got for my birthday accessorizes nicely the tires I got for Christmas -- but what I really wanted was a pony.

­-- Mary Reeves is a staff writer for the Times-Gazette. She can be reached by e-mail at mreeves@t-g.com.