Bumping to another age bracket

It's nearly midnight Saturday, the night of my 35th birthday.

I'm no longer a part of that desirable 18 to 34 marketing demographic. My purchasing decisions have been set. No advertising firm cares about capturing me anymore.

I'm clicking my set over from MTV to VH1. Can "60 Minutes" be far behind? The most telling thing about my new age bracket is that I'm home and sitting at the computer. I just finished my online bill paying and moved on to column writing.

Last year, my birthday ended with me slinging my arm over The Other Half's shoulder, wearing a purple boa and half walking and half being dragged from Buckner's in downtown Cape Girardeau. Hey, I'm not proud of it. But at least I was in that boa instead of a robe and fuzzy slippers.

A friend offered to round up the gang for a few cold ones this year, but my birthday falling on a Saturday exactly one week before Christmas caused me a lot of guilt. What people really want this time of year is another gift to buy and another social commitment.

The other problem is that Mr. Half had to work his night shift, so I was left to my own devices. I might have spent the entire evening in this robe-and-slipper combo if it weren't for Monica, who insisted on dinner and drinks.

We settled on a Thai place and ordered wine. The waitress carded Monica but not me. Ouch. Monica saw the look on my face.

"It's my friend's birthday," she said.

The waitress's eyes lit up. "Oh! What is your name?"

It was a dead giveaway that I'd be hearing "Happy Birthday" sung with a heavy Thai accent very soon. Sure enough, at the end of the meal, two waitresses showed up with three little scoops of ice cream on a plate and a candle in the middle.

"Happy bir-day to yoooooooo. Happy bir-day to yoooooooooo," they sang with heart. It was like they never got the opportunity to sing that song and were making the most of it.

At 35, it must be I'm finally old enough to love moments like that more than a martini buzz. So I'm not going to worry about my new demographic anymore.

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Do you feel like killing the next person who asks you if you're ready for Christmas? Of course you aren't ready for Christmas! Christmas comes bearing down on you like a freight train. You've always got another gift to buy and another card to send.

This year, if I missed anyone, it's because of buying a new house. I swear.

Merry Christmas!

Heidi Hall is a former managing editor of the Southeast Missourian who now lives in St. Petersburg, Fla.