“Oh, you just wait until you turn 50,” she tells me…..
I resisted ordering the coffin cake. It was really hard because I REALLY wanted to get it. But, I erred on the side of pity. I had a moment and felt sorry for her and the emotions that she was going through, so I bagged the idea of the coffin. Sigh.
Her actual birthday was on Friday – the same night as the meet-and-greet at the boys’ elementary. I think that this sort of bummed her out at first. For all of the bellyaching and moaning and bitching about her birthday (and being SO OLD), she really did want the day to be all about her. But, she gave it all up for her kids, and this is nothing new.
On Thursday night, the boys and I made a cake – angel food – from scratch. I’ve never made one of these from scratch. Here’s the thing: beaten egg whites GROW in a serious way when you add hot simple syrup. Like, out of the bowl growing. It was hysterical. We finally got the cake in the oven, and it was time for the boys to go to bed. I stayed up and frosted it myself.
I decided to go in to work late on Friday morning so that we could serve her breakfast in bed. The boys got up early enough that we could decorate the cake. Bub doesn’t like a ton of sticky sweet, so we decorated it with blueberries (which she loves) and strawberries. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a photo of it. We also made eggs in a basket (toast with a hole), bacon, and coffee. Yum!
After I got home from work, we had to get ready for back-to-school night, but not before giving her some presents: a new cake pan (since she broke the last one) and a Lady Gaga CD. Then, we enjoyed the meet and greet with the boys teachers.
After school stuff, we took her to Apple*bee’s. I know. Not glamorous, but the swank, ritzy place in town that was supposed to be the site of the party had closed the month before. So, a local, noisy chain restaurant had to do. We had an awesome server, and the boys were generally well behaved. It was COLD, though. I think they did it on purpose because of her menopause. Bwah-ha-ha-ha. “Just wait until you turn 50!” she reminded me over and over. I had 50 candles on the cake, but the server couldn’t get them all lit at once without burning her hand. I’m not kidding.
On Saturday, we went into the city early so that we could play a bit. We went to Granny’s, we did a bit of shopping, and then we went to Sugarhouse Barbeque where some of her friends met us. We had a boatload of great BBQ (with plenty of sides for the vegetarian). There were the requisite “over the hill” gifts: black this and black that. There were no black balloons, however, because there was no helium to be found due to an explosion at a helium plant on the east coast. So, actually, there were no balloons at all!
I made sure to give her at least some of what she needs as she ages: vitamins for women 50+, nutrition shakes (which the boys love), a neck chain for her reading glasses, sticky notes because she forgets everything, and adult diapers, of course. Typical Bub, she opened the undies and put them on over her pants for all of the restaurant patrons to laugh at. We had a great time with great food and great service.
Here’s her other cake. It’s not the coffin cake that I wanted, but damn cute, nonetheless. In case you can’t tell, it’s like a spinner for a game. You spin the arrow and it lands on a section. “Bub is older than King Tut.” “Bub is older than dirt.” Etc. Hysterical.
Then, while the boys went for a sleepover at Papa’s, we went to the bar. We knew that we would be early, but we didn’t think that we would have too wait long for people to arrive. We were wrong. We were the only people there for about three hours. Gawd – what a waste of time. Finally, some of our friends arrived. Unfortunately, a lot of her friends flaked out. I’m still kind of pissed about that. She managed to have fun, anyway. (I did not. Seriously, in order to actually enjoy THAT music, a person has to be drunk. I was expecting new stuff – which I don’t really like that much but can tolerate. Instead, we got “Footloose” – which is only good if you’re watching Footloose or sitting at a Kenny Loggins concert – “Jesse’s Girl” – which was never really any good – “Come On Eileen” – which is only good if Eileen is sitting there – and etc. I even asked if it was oldies night, but it wasn’t. Horrible music. Plus, it was all mixed in with gangsta’ rap which, let’s be honest, just does not work at a lesbian bar. So, back to ME – I was sober because I was driving. The music was bad, the service was awful – I bussed our table all night long – and the patrons were slutty dumbasses. Thank god for Sid, Jackie, and Geri!)
I managed to get her in the car by 1am, and we went home and crashed.
“Just wait until you turn 50….” Finally, I had to let her in on a little secret. Turning 50 isn’t going to bother me that much. Why? Well, my response to her was finally this: “I will turn 50, but you’ll be 58!!!” At that point, she shut up about it.
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