hooray for the birthday fairy

Some years, the birthday fairy is missing in action. This year, the birthday fairy was in fine form, but he almost didn't get a chance to strut his stuff.

On Sunday, the day before my birthday, we had a quiet day at home. We both thought we'd communicated to the other that it would be nice for me to open my presents a day early -- we had lots of time, we were feeling fairly refreshed and unstressed. Somehow the message failed to penetrate into either of our brains. Monday, the actual day of my birthday, by the time I got home, I was miserable, grouchy, unhappy, and very tired, not necessarily in that order. Late in the evening, when presents were offered, I just wanted to go to bed.

Finally on Tuesday, we tried again. There was an impressive pile waiting for me, mostly from Robert's recent trip to Santa Fe. A few highlights: three different types of blackberry mead from a New Mexico winery. A CD of computer Sudoko. A biography of a Santa Fe woman. Spatulas that can tolerate very high heat in kicky turquoise. Chocolate from a Santa Fe chocolate shop, including chili chocolates. Some chipotle chili (hmm, instead of taquitos, maybe we could mix the chili powder with black beans and put *them* on top of the fake spanish rice?). And the pieces de resistance... Two presents from Nambe, one of our favorite design centers. One is a crystal vase reproduction of a traditional Indian basket, the other a pair of twisted crystal candlesticks. Both are stunning.

Robert's explanation? It's not often that someone has a birthday divisible by 50. Wow.

guilty pleasures

Last night, I made a dinner that I'm almost embarrassed to mention. I came home pretty pooped and fairly late. We had some Trader Joe's taquitos in the freezer -- black beans and cheese wrapped thinly into corn tortillas.

So, I arrived home. I preheated the oven. In a bowl, I mixed some leftover rice, salsa, and shredded cheese and placed the mix in a greased baking dish. I put the taquitos on top, put the whole thing in the oven, and set the timer. I set the table, put out some extra salsa and cheese, and went upstairs for a preliminary reading of the day's blogs.

About half an hour after my arrival home, we sat down to dinner, complete with wine and lit candles. The most embarrassing thing is that dinner was totally yummy. In fact, I'm already dreaming up variations on the theme for the next no-effort night.

sweet and juicy

I like pears a lot. Robert is fairly indifferent to them. He will eat them to be polite, but doesn't get nearly as excited by their delicate flavor as do I. Last week, I bought myself some pears and was letting them ripen one at a time, then eating them as a treat after dinner. Robert saw me slicing one and became a little agitated. He needed me to tell him what kind of pear I was about to eat. It was clearly on the tip of his tongue, but he just wasn't producing the word. Turns out that he'd seen a woman whom he'd wanted to tell me about. She was shaped like a pear, but not just any pear. She was shaped exactly like the pear I was getting ready to savor -- it was an anjou.

successful birthday bash

Robert and I had our big birthday bash yesterday and I couldn't have been happier. We cheated a bit on the planning by piggy-backing on two regularly-scheduled contra dances. Our dance group has a "sponsorship" program where an individual or group pays for a portion of an entire dance (the expenses include hiring a caller, a band, and the hall). So to celebrate our double-header birthday, Robert and I sponsored two dances, not just one.

I started working on the idea with our "Queen Mum" and dance group founder in May, and we've been talking intermittently ever since. The QM handled all the scheduling and arranged for the callers and performers. I also worked with some of the other board members to write an announcement for yesterday's dances.

Yesterday morning, the doorbell rang, and there was my hairdresser standing on the front stoop. She said "You're having a party tonight, aren't you?" and handed over an enormous bouquet full of peonies and roses -- blues, pinks, whites -- just stunning. Off she dashed to get to work on time.

And then the cake lady came and delivered a huge and beautifully decorated cake -- far fancier than I had dreamed it would be. We chatted very briefly before she dashed off too.


The afternoon dance, which was for advanced dancers (really, intermediate to advanced) was called by one of my all-time favorite callers, Lisa Greenleaf. She has a wacky sense of humor and puts together fun, energetic, and mind-bending dances. I'm guaranteed to get so turned around at some point when she's calling that I start walking 180 degrees away from where I'm supposed to go. Fortunately, the experience, while disorienting, is usually so amusing that I start laughing (often harder than I'm laughing already).

Often advanced dances start with just a handful of people and don't build up to much of a quorum. Yesterday was different. Many people were there at the beginning, and we had a rather large crowd toward the end. The level of dancing was great, with lots of laughter and good spirit.

The potluck was lovely. The food was yummy (including one incredible mushroom stroganoff made by a friend who knows I love his mushroom dishes). And when people seemed to have finished eating, we had CAKE!!!! We sang two birthday songs (the traditional one and a beautiful round that many in the community know) and also celebrated another friend whose birthday was yesterday.

And of course the cake was outstanding -- four levels of dark chocolate layer cake with hazelnut butter cream between the layers and milk chocolate frosting. The baker had created a criss-cross lattice of darker chocolate on top with piping around the edges. This time there was so much cake that we were able to take some home for freezing and future enjoyment.

The cake and flowers were widely admired and praised, which was nice, and we received many thank yous, also nice.


The evening dance was called by one of my other all-time favorite callers, Linda Leslie. Linda has the wonderful skill of helping brand-new dancers feel successful quickly while also managing to engage experienced dancers who need something of a challenge. I don't know how she does it, but she weaves community and puts a smile on people's faces. The new people (who at some dances feel confused and frustrated) danced through much of the evening and were smiling and happy at the end. I hope we made a few converts last night.

Early on, Linda called a dance written for Robert and me a few years ago on one of our anniversaries. It's a mixer, where instead of taking a partner and dancing with one new couple each round through the dance, you dance with just one other person and get a new partner each round. At the end, Linda called Robert and me into the middle of the dance circle and invited us to swing until the end of the music. It felt so good to have our community (Our People!) gathered around. Very loving.


Oh, and the band. My, my. Two people played throughout the two dances. They were joined by half of another band for the evening dance. The musicians are all extremely good and have many different sounds. (Some bands, also very good, have just one sound. But when a band plays in different styles, there are more surprises to mix into the blend.) I heard them throw in silly references to known songs in the middle of other tunes (including, at one point, Somewhere Over the Rainbow).

And fortunately, my wonky ankle, the one I've been struggling with for years, was on its best behavior yesterday. I danced all but one of the afternoon dances and nearly all of the evening dances. I even had a lovely waltz sometime after dark.

I got to dance with a huge variety of people, some new, some more experienced than me, some dear old friends, some complete strangers, but friends in dance. It was a joyous, energetic, and loving event. Yesterday was a wonderful sendoff into my sixth decade. From the smile on Robert's face, I think the same goes for him.

rite of passage

Robert signed up and I benefitted. I am now the proud possessor of an AARP card. This makes me eligible for discounts on motor home insurance, something I've been waiting for for a long, long time. On the other hand, it might also make me eligible for motorcycle insurance too. Oh, and for discounts at motor inns across the United States (in case we get tired of staying in our motor home or neglect to trail a tent behind our motorcycle).

Oddly, they'd been pestering Robert for months leading up to his birthday but they haven't caught up with me. Now I'm wondering if they'll even notice.

best frenemies

After my great grandparents died and the summer home was sold, my grandparents bought a house in Connecticut and moved out of Manhattan. Because my grandfather had severe breathing problems, my grandparents wintered in Scottsdale in a little snowbird house. This, of course, was before greater Phoenix became polluted and humid.

My grandparents had two sets of good friends. One, a comestics heiress, had a vast estate with multiple buildings and a swimming pool. When we'd visit the grandparents, we were expected to avail ourselves of the pool as often as we wanted. The woman was very sweet. We developed a game where the kids would bark like seals and swim to one end of the pool. She'd hand-feed us little treats (not fish, something sweet usually) and we'd bark and bark our pleasure.

She was clearly an elegant woman. I don't think she'd ever get in the pool herself (though maybe when she was younger or there was noone else there); but she sure liked having other people use it. I imagine that her chauffer (she must have had one of those) would drive her into The City for opera and museum openings. Had she lived in Boston, she might have been part of the blue-haired Friday afternoon symphony crowd.

The other friend was also a lot of fun. She'd get down on the floor and play with me. She taught me to play jacks. She introduced me to cream soda, still one of the only sodas I'll drink. Her husband and I did a crafts project in his wood shop.

I loved both of these women, but it turned out they hated, hated, hated each other. It was so bad that when the seal lady would ask what we'd been doing, we could talk about playing in my grandparents' backyard, going to the animal petting zoo, or walking in the woods. But we were never to mention the cream-soda friend. Not ever.

And vice versa. We had to lie by omission to both.

And then my grandmother died when I was 10. In one of the next years after, I went to Scottsdale to visit my grandfather. I can't remember that we did much -- we probably just sat around. But by that time, I was enjoying his company.

He did take me to a very fun party. I think he had a good time; I know I did. There was a guy there playing the five-string guitar -- one string had broken and he was too lazy to fix it. He played passably well. There was a woman who told me about her adventures driving her broken-down jeep through the desert looking for rocks.

There was one of the friends from Connecticut. I was so happy to see her! And then, the second friend arrived. My stomach tensed. I drew in my breath and sat very still. Friend 2 walked over to her mortal-enemy-in-Connecticut and gave her a warm kiss. Turns out they were best of friends in Arizona; they were only enemies back east.

cleaning frenzy

I'm not much of a cleaner. In fact, for years (nearly 20), I've paid a woman to clean the house for me*. But there's lots of "around the edges" stuff to do. Since Robert left yesterday, I've been attending to a good number of those edges.

I've already done three loads of laundry and there's another left to go after I change the bed.

Yesterday, I cleaned out the food cabinets -- we had loads of food that might still be perfectly good after all these years, but chances are slim to none that we'll ever eat it. Gone. I also went after some of the more suspicious items in the refrigerator. It turns out, for example, that even cats aren't impressed by cod liver oil. Oh well, gone.

This morning, I sorted through piles of financial paperwork and shredded almost all of it, then put it in the recycling pile. OK, I'll never be elected to public office, but I think we knew that already. Gone.

I may also think about which books to donate to the swap library at work. (Leave all the books you want; pay a dollar to take a book; the proceeds are donated to charity.)

I feel a little lighter already.



* I mentioned my cleaning lady to a friend recently. They snarkily asked if she was an illegal immigrant and whether she spoke English. She is an immigrant, but she's from Canada, PEI to be specific, so she does speak English. I also happen to know that she pays taxes, so I highly doubt that she's here illegally .