Birthday fun. And birthday fail

Image credit:
http://www.hellyesoftheweek.blogspot.com/

I had a birthday the other day. How excitement. Happy birthday me. It fell during my break from work and so was lovely. That is, except for the bits that weren't.
Let's start with the highlights:
* Sensational breakfast of banana bread, banana, mascarpone cheese, maple syrup and bacon, whipped up by Paul. There was enough on my plate alone to feed a Logies audience. "Don't you think I eat between birthdays?" I queried. To which he replied: "Well there was all that stuff there in the fridge so I thought I might as well cook it." He's not always one for food storage logic, my Paul.
* Many, many birthday wishes via facebook, SMS and phone calls. It is nice to pop up on people's radar. Even the radar of those who appear to spend 80 per cent of their waking hours on facebook and would likely even chat to Muammar Gaddafi for the interaction. It's also a bit awkward getting a message from someone who's birthday you haven't noted in years, possibly ever. Heartfelt apologies to anyone in this category.
* A sense of being entitled to laze about all day.
* Lazing about all day.
* Sleep, wine, more 'special occasion' food .
* Birthday present money.
* Imagining spending birthday money. I live in Coolgardie - I can't nip off and buy something nice right away, unless you count a chiko roll from Caltex 'nice'.

And for the low-lights:
* No present (besides breakfast) from my husband. Admittedly this is in part because I hadn't really come up with anything I wanted. We did see something that would have sufficed - a K-mart outdoor setting - when in town last week, but they didn't have any for-sale stock. So nada for me on the day from him. Not even a box of chocolates or cheap but cute scented candle. Which are apparently lame these days, but I, in my dagginess, am partial to.
* No one coming to my party. Not that a party, as such, was really ever on the cards. We didn't have anything planned until Paul suggested the in-laws drop in for a few drinks on the Saturday night. On an impulse I also sent out a last-minute invite to some work mates. But none made it. (Not a surprise, of course. I myself almost never attend spontaneous events because I too usually have plans and am loath to have them interfered with). But in the end not even the even in-laws showed. So it was just me, Paul, the fire flickering in our make-shift firepit, and the starry sky. And the plate of cheeses and bowl of chips - nothing could spoil my enjoyment of the nosh.
* While sitting like nigel-no-friends by the fire I started reminiscing about my birthday last year. And how much better different it was. Remarkably different, what with the award-winning, beachside restaurant we ate at (Nu Nu's at Palm Cove; go there if you ever get the chance), the balmy tropical evening and the group of very dear friends in attendance. I miss you, people!
* As well as the husband's failure to produce a gift was his failure to deliver treats he had promised. Apparently he got "sidetracked" (by the couch and a stack of DVDs, for the record). This wasn't a major lowlight, merely a bit of a disappointment, because these treats (of the massage variety - see why I'm not really complaining?) were provided on the following days.

In retrospect it's clear the highlights outweigh the low-lights. It's also clear I've become rather whiny of late, haven't I?

Have you ever had a birthday that didn't quite meet expectations? Or had either a spectacularly bad or spectacularly good one?

This week I'm grateful for... my age

Image source: http://www.intoxicatedabroad.com/

They say getting old is no picnic, but at the moment I'm glad I've left some aspects of youth behind.
A younger cousin of mine (she's 18) has recently started university. While she sounds to be having the time of her life, her facebook updates have reminded me of the less noteworthy experiences of being a full-time student:
* Drinking 'goon'. The lovely bottles of sav blanc I indulge in these days may come from the cheaper end of the Woolies Liquor shelf, but thankfully bear next to no resemblance to goon. I think I'd blocked the word 'goon' and it's associated memories from my mind, until this week that is, the moment I signed my first job contract.
* Having to do assignments on non-class days. I'm fortunate to have the kind of job where work is only done at work. Of course days off do involve housework, but you can get away with giving it some cursory attention and put off doing it properly almost indefinitely. Or at least until you have a rental inspection or the parents come to visit.
* Having to share with dorm or flat mates. Think kitchen pigs. Waiting for the bathroom (only to find the sink clogged with someone else's hair). Chocolate nicked from the fridge. Goon nicked from the fridge. Loud noises at all hours of the day and night. Noises you'd rather not identify coming from your housemate's room at all hours of the day and night. It's a list with no end, really.
My place is no luxurious haven, but I can keep it pretty much the way I like. The husband's attempts to get away with leaving everything from shifters to socks on the kitchen table notwithstanding.
* Not having a licence and/or not having a car. Many uni students do have both these days, of course, and this bit of gratitude is prompted by the experience of my sister-in-law who, for various bureaucratic reasons, has just got her Learners at age 21. I've always lived in regional areas where the public transport system, if it exists at all, involves a bus coming by about once every 10 days. I'm not a big fan of driving (I prefer to be chauffeured, darling) but I am a fan of being able to take off somewhere whenever I feel like it.

This post is part of the lovely 'I'm Grateful For' link-up by hosted by Maxabella Loves.



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