Happy Birthday to Me

Getting older is inevitable I guess, and having birthdays is a good thing… especially compared to the alternative.  But some milestone birthdays throw us more than others.  I didn’t mind turning 30 the way some women do.  I didn’t even mind finding 35 or 40… but 45?  Hang on a minute, that is way too close to 50 for comfort!

It feels like it’s all crept up on me while I wasn’t watching.  The years have been flying past so quick they’re starting to blend in together.  Every time I find myself saying something happened ’last year’, I end up doing a double check and realising it was actually the year before. I remember as a kid, just a summer would drag on interminably… now Christmas seems to follow Christmas with indecent haste and you barely get a breather in-between!

We had the most fabulous night, and I think this was in part due to the fact there were no wasteful and unnecessary gifts that I was required to be all, ‘Oh, that’s lovely. Thank you’, while thinking ‘Why are you giving me this thing? Have you ever met me?’.  There was no awful cake ritual, with accompanying dirge of a Happy Birthday song; a practice I have always absolutely abhorred!  Actually I’ve never been big on the whole cake thing. I don’t know why we stop a fun social gathering, force someone to be the centre of attention while they proceed to blow germs all over everyone’s food with onlookers singing a dreadfully repetitive song that is anything but celebratory.  The whole thing is beyond my understanding.

Anyway, we had a bit of a Bon Voyage/Birthday party last night at a cool little wine and tapas bar in Wynnum, called Tide.  Mr K invited about 40 people and we booked out half the restaurant.  It was a glorious (if hot) day and Tide is built out over the water on a jetty, which meant lovely sea breezes and a beautiful view over all the yachts in the marina with their clanging ropes and masts.  Food was plentiful and the champagne was flowing… I think in spite of the fact that around half of us were driving, and many were drinking beer or cider, we knocked off about five bottles of champagne before heading back to our house to kick on.

It was supposed to be just a quiet afternoon of drinks by the bay, but once home, there was more champagne, a hastily thrown together cheese platter and music and good friends.  Before I knew it, several of us were dancing around the kitchen to Sisters of Mercy at 1am, more than a little tipsy, and having a grand old time on a school night!  Forty five?  Forty Schmive!

“And the devil in black dress watches over
My guardian angel walks away
Life is short and love is always over in the morning
Black wind come carry me far away…”

Anyway, the long and the short of it is that my headache this morning was well earned and well deserved…  and I’ve discovered, I’m not 25 anymore; so probably shouldn’t try and act like it!

Birthday Bait and Switch

Last week, the Small Child thought he’d make himself some Mac ‘n’ Cheese.  You know, the horrid microwave kind, which passes itself off as food and has very doubtful nutritional properties.  It’s stupidly easy to make, full of MSG goodness and the kid loves it, (though god knows why), all you have to do is tip the sachet of macaroni into a bowl, add water, heat for three minutes on high and then stir through the pretend reconstituted cheesy stuff.  Simple right?

Unless of course you miss a vital step, like oh… I don’t know – adding water.

Then what you get, instead of Mac ‘n’ Cheese, is a house full of acrid black smoke, a useless microwave with burnt plastic walls, which now is only suitable for use as a temporary garden ornament until next kerbside pick up day.  I really wasn’t planning on replacing the microwave any time soon… but can not go putting fabric wheat packs in the (vaguely still functioning) machine twice a day, because they’ll end up reeking of charred acrid smoke and shortly after, so too, will the couch.  Yuk.

As luck would have it, it was the Small Child’s birthday in a week or so, and I decided to teach him a lesson about forgetfulness, by telling that he was getting a new microwave for his birthday as a result of the Greatly Offensive and Injurious Mac ‘n’ Cheese Incident of 2014.  I let him do the retail research and he got to put together a purchase proposal, so you know, I kindly allowed him to choose which one we needed (much to his disgust), and then we duly went out and purchased it.  Poor little guy was quiet and resigned throughout, feeling equal parts guilty at destroying the old microwave and despondent at the concept that the new one was to constitute his birthday gift.  We then got a week of telling him that his birthday present was all sorted but that he needed some new slippers, so he might get some of those too.  Little did he know, his actual birthday present had been ordered weeks ago…

As an avid young gamer, his eight year old hand me down laptop was his most prized possession and while it was okay for some things, it wasn’t really wasn’t cutting the mustard.  So we had decided it was a good time to replace and we arranged for the whole family to chip in and help us buy him a new one – one that would hopefully see him through the next four years or so.  Hopefully by that time, when he needs another upgrade – he can damn well get a job and save for it himself!  But it served our purposes at the moment to let him think that a shiny new microwave was all that birthday had in store for him… it significantly reduced the ‘I wants’ in the lead up to said birthday, that’s for sure.

Anyway, birthday morning rolled around and so began the unwrapping of some underwhelming decoy birthday presents that I literally pulled out of the emergency present box (everyone has one of them right?)…

Well, Happy Birthday kiddo… I think that was exactly the reaction we were hoping for…. except for that weird, “I am victorious!”, exclamation, which mostly just tells me he’s been playing way too many video games already, and doesn’t have a suitable vocabulary to express elation!


Don’t call me late for dinner…

It’s my Mum’s birthday today… and she didn’t want to do anything to celebrate.  Since my Dad passed away it feels like she doesn’t want to acknowledge these things.  It’s almost like she thinks she doesn’t deserve to celebrate birthdays and happy occasions.  But I’ve been so depressed lately and I feel like the back pain has been on top of my pretty badly so I did what I always do when I want to ignore my problems… focus on trying to fix someone else’s problems.

Today I arranged to have lunch at my place with just us girls and a few glasses of wine of course and we watched a silly movie called Ghost Town which was just what the doctor ordered.  I had made a lovely cheese plate as movie snacks but accidentally made it as though there was going to be a couple of boys in the rooms so instead of what I had planned for lunch we just had way too much yummy cheseses.

I had talked her into dinner out at a local restaurant a few weeks ago (Eleven-17... fantastic place if you’re in the area and haven’t tried it yet) and promised her it would be just the family.  Once she got used to that idea, last week I conned her into letting me invite a few of her friends.  Not many just a few people who’ve known her for the last 30 odd years you know.  So far so good. 

The gift is hard.  What to buy the person who really has everything and really doesn’t ever seem to want anything???  My sisters and I decided to get together and undertake a Herculean effort to find a weekend where no one had any prior committments to arrange a family weekend away together.  We managed to find a weekend (eventually) and BigSal found a great place to called Gilston Retreat down in the Gold Coast Hinterland that could accommodate us all and where we could book the whole place out.  So after much wailing and gnashing of teeth (okay… after much back and forth on the MSN) the present was booked and squared away.

All up I think she’s had a pretty good day to celebrate her birthday. and I didn’t see Mum get upset or get maudlin about Dad at all.  She even joked with us that if Dad was around he would have picked up the dinner tab at the restaurant and seeing that she has his money maybe she should be paying for everyone’s dinner!  

Only now I’m home and really tired from sitting on crappy seats all night and acting all night like I’m okay and… I’ve got a monster headache to boot.   But  I think it was a good day for the most part… and I hope Mum will remember the day fondly even though I forced her into doing all that stuff to celebrate it.

Good news on the doorstep…

I went to walk out my door today and was surprised to find a brown paper package all tied up with string… actually, no I can’t back that up.  It was a little brown cardboard box covered in one of those stick-on invoice/picking slip things – which doesn’t have the same ring to it does it?  🙂   Ohh… where did it come from?  Who sent it?  Oh shit no!  It came from the Metropolitan Museum Gift Shop!!!

Fuck!  Fuck!  Fuck!!!   Don’t say I’ve gone and done it again!!! 

Running through my head was "I’m sure I didn’t buy anything from the Met gift shop!  I know I didnt.  No.  No, of course I didn’t…  …. did I???"  Since I’ve been on all these crazy arsed medications my short term memory has been shot to shit.  There’s been a couple of parcels turning up here (mostly books) that I didn’t remember ordering and even one situation where two copies of the same book arrived about 10 days apart – Renaissance Jewels, Gold Boxes, and Objets De Vertu… great book by the way .   I had totally forgotten that I had bought it and went and bought it again!!!  That particular little cock up worked out okay though… I gave the second copy to Uncle Surly for his birthday as it was a book that was right up his alley anyway.

But as I was opening this box today I was wracking my drug-fucked little brain trying to remember if I had bought anything from the Met and desperately hoping that I hadn’t spent too much money without remembering having done so?!?!?  But lo’ and behold I open it up and it was an unexpected gift!   For me! 

Just before Christmas i had published a ‘Get out of Jail Free’ list of gift suggestions for Mr K who had offered some insult or other and it seems one of my dearest friends must have clicked through on one of the links and thoughtfully sent me this beautiful Russian mirror pendant –  

Thank you Poppet!
You’re gorgeous!

I am totally touched… but not ‘touched’ as in ‘touched in the head’ kinda "touched"… though you did have me worried for a minute there!  I miss you heaps and can’t wait for you to come home  🙂

Birthday… back… blogs…

Received a belated birthday wish this morning from a friend I used to go to Uni with who is currently in New York – nice life for some!  So we forgive him for being late even though we’re not yet decided if we forgive him for being so cheeky…. these youngins think they can get away with anything!  I don’t know!  🙂  Thought it was a Hallmark style e-card for a moment until I did a double take!

My back is still driving me up the wall from sitting at Dralion on Sunday night… two days to recover from a social outing is ridiculous.  I’m sure I’ve done some additional nastiness in my sleep last night as I seem to have some God awful spasms happening up the left side of my neck that may or may not have been there when I went to bed… too many drugs I can’t remember.  I’ve been in such a shite state today that I seriously considered going back to the doctor but… A) he’d just sit there looking at me in that confused and pathetic way which communicates quite clearly that he doesn’t know what to do with me and B) it’s probably not wise to drive unnecessarily when you can’t turn your neck to shoulder check properly.  So I didn’t bother….  grrr…

Anyway the internets have been telling me that it’s Delurking day today –  so I’ve got about a dozen blogs that I should go say "Hi" on because I’m one of those dreaded silent masses who reads peoples stuff and they don’t know I’m there   🙂