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Tomorrow’s my birthday, where I’ll turn 48.

It’s been a long time since I’ve had a Saturday birthday. 11 years to be exact, and that birthday was no fun because I was 10 days away from giving birth to my 2nd child, so I couldn’t drink, and I felt fat. I remember sitting at a diner with my husband and then 6 year old daughter and crying.

So I’ve been looking forward to this one. Although my plans for my birthday weren’t perfect, they were good – hubby and daughter’s work were getting in the way of the day being perfect, but you’ve gotta earn that dough. Boy oh boy, do I know that now.

I stepped into work today to find a card and a gift certificate waiting for me on my desk. After more than 2 years with this company that bought my newspaper, they finally remembered my birthday. It used to irk me every time a card was passed around for me to sign because there was never one for me.

11 am comes and my boss asks to speak to me. In walks the publisher/owner as well. ruh roh.

And then it comes, the axe that I have been waiting to fall since July 1, 2010, the day I started with our new publisher. I was fired.

Happy fucking birthday.

I’ve put over 13 years into creating my stupid, dopey little newspaper, and I’ve been budgeted right out of a job. Yes, budgeted. They can’t afford my salary in 2013 because my newspaper has gone from 40-60 pages a week to 24. Realtors think that print is dead and they just won’t advertise. It’s nothing I’ve done, they assured me. It’s just money. That was sort of the trouble with my employers…it was always all about money.

So that’s that.

Now my Saturday birthday plans have gone from a nice dinner out and some shopping to the McDonald’s drive through and scouring the want ads.

Yeah, turning 48 ought to be a blast.

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