My birthday is Christmas Day. In 44 years, I have had one birthday party. ONE. Last year, my “cake” was a half-eaten apple pie someone had leftover from another party. Oh, and I’m allergic to cinnamon so I couldn’t even eat it. It’s a miserable day for a birthday. Well-meaning friends say “Let’s celebrate your birthday MAY 25!” This plan come up every few years from different people. I have yet to see a May 25 birthday acknowledgement. Bah humbug.