Happy Secret Birthday, Me

 

Happy Secret Birthday, Me

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Remember when you couldn’t wait? When each additional year brought joyful anticipation, jumping up-and-down glee? What? When you were six. Then ten. Eighteen. Even, in a different way, twenty-one. That was then.

I have a dear friend who still gets that excited. For years she has extended birthdays from The Day to The Birthday Week and celebrates herself every day. She’s healthier than I am.

Me, I skulk around hoping nobody remembers. I don’t want any fuss. So I keep schtum.

I also have friends who keep track of everyone’s birthdays. This is good. They let me know when to send best wishes. We are scattered distances. No fuss, just good feelings. I enjoy their birthdays. I enjoy their greetings to me. Makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

Last week I turned a daily calendar page and grew another whole year older. It is no secret. But, I didn’t run around singing “Happy Birthday to Me”.

In a way, this birthday which sneaked up on me is a surprise. It won’t make sense to say I never thought I’d get to this age. Here I am. Fortunate and blessed. I don’t take any medications. Most of the friends my age gulp a daily dose of pills the size of a packet of M & M’s. My blood work is good. My problems are mechanical, annoyances, like a flat tire or the left back wheel locked up. They slow me down.

“Slow down” is a good thing for a woman who approached life most of my years “like killing snakes”, so I’ve been told by those close to me.

In my own little ways, I celebrated my birthday. My party began with a huge dish of steamed asparagus, seasoned with butter, salt and pepper. A dishful. Not two spindly spears like one gets as decoration in an upscale restaurant. I love asparagus. 

Mid-afternoon John came by to share some news. He left my place to go see Kathy and Richard. I said, “I’ll tag along.” I filled Lola’s dog dish but left early, took my dog; left my gate open.

Crin was in her garden, dragging a fallen palm leaf, so we hailed her and said, “Join us.” On her way through her gate, Crin saw Lani and said, “Let’s go to Kath and Rich’s.” “Be there shortly,” Lani replied.

We got settled. Kathy brought out glasses and a pitcher of water, which is the perfect drink on a day in the 90s.

Sure enough, shortly, Lani and Ariel appeared. Ariel carted in a beautiful chocolate cake.

All I can say is that it was perfect. It’s my birthday. And my friends gathered for an unintentional celebration complete with cake. I kept my secret close to my heart. No focus, no fuss. Just good cake with good friends and it was all the more special to me.

Let me tell you the side story. Lola used to sneak into Josue’s yard and scarf up Snowball’s dog food. Snowball is like her name, a little bitty thing. Lola liked Snowball’s brand of chow better than her own. There was nothing to do but change my dog food. So I bought a bag for Snowball and a bag for Lola.

Snowball has a new friend, a four-month old pup, Hunter. Hunter has paws the size of saucers, so you get an idea how big he will grow to be. Though taller than mid-size Lola, Hunter is a pup. 

When Lola and I got back to our house after having chocolate cake at my secret birthday party, I saw first thing that Lola’s just-filled bowl was empty. Not just empty, but licked slick and shiny.

I did laugh as I refilled Lola’s bowl. Hunter had come bounding into our open gate, sniffed out the bounty and helped himself. Retribution.

I think the Universe does like balance. I turned 78 and got an unexpected party with friends and cake. Hunter ate an extra meal, payback for all the times Lola ate little Snowball’s food.

Sondra Ashton

HDN: Looking out my back door

April, after birthday, after Easter

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The Diner, The Witch and The Birthday Cake

When a surprise is not a surprise is a surprise! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Diner, The Witch and The Birthday Cake __________________________________________________________________________________________ I have been looking for any excuse to get out of town after being held hostage by winter. I especially wanted to see my friends Ron and Sharon in Watson , Saskatchewan . Also, I didn’t trust winter to stay gone, so it would be a comfort to have a friend along to share the eight hour drive north. Steve, a good friend from Silverdale , Washington , arrived for a visit on the Empire Builder last Tuesday. I jumped at my opportunity. “Steve, did you bring your passport? Good, let’s go to Canada .” I wanted to surprise my friends, but I wanted it to be a pleasant surprise. So I emailed Sharon : Do you like surprises? Sharon replied: I love surprises. That’s all I needed to know. So early Thursday morning we quickly pack our bags and leave. Ten miles out of Harlem , we hit the snow fields. Not fields of snow: snow fields. There is a difference. In the valley, the snow has melted into the thirsty earth. In the hills, snow is deep and creeks run swift through the coulees. Our day is sunshine bright and our spirits run as high as the creeks, out of their banks with excitement. After crossing the border at Turner/Climax we stop for a farm-style breakfast in Shaunavon, one of my favorite towns, continue north to Gull Lake, east on Highway 1 to Regina, through the beautiful city and north on Highway 6 to Watson. Snow and high water, geese and deer, hawks, coyotes and a wolf flank our journey. We pull into the parking lot at the Quick Stop Diner at 5:30. Sharon flies across the parking lot and grabs me in a hug. “I knew you were here. One of our customers saw you drive in and said, I see your friend from Montana is here.” I introduce Steve and we hustle inside. I sneak back to the kitchen and surprise Ron with a big hug. Lilia, the other member of the Quick Stop team, spots me and rushes over to wrap me in her arms. In the diner I recognize several customers, all of whom grin and wave or nod to me. “You’re back, eh?” “How long are you staying?” “Good to see you.” I planned a surprise, but I am surprised in turn by how warmly I am received. “We’ve come to help,” I announce. “And to celebrate my birthday. I brought our own aprons and Quick Stop tee shirts. I’ll bus tables.” “And I’ll do dishes,” Steve said. And so we do. Friday the little diner bustles with customers all day long. Everybody is responding to a sunshine day with easy-going talk and laughter. Sharon, Ron and Lilia incorporate us into their little operation. I deliver orders from the kitchen, pour coffee and clear tables. Steve helps both on the floor and in the kitchen. For me, the highlight of the day comes when a woman arrives with a three year old daughter and her two sons about fourteen and sixteen. The little bright-eyed charmer watches me come and go, smiles at me and gives me little waves, so I make a point to stop by their table frequently with a word or two. Finally the toddler motions me over and announces loudly, “You are funny. Are you a witch? I think you are a witch.” “Why, thank you. I do believe I am.” I laugh, pleased. I recognize praise when I hear it. Her mother, however, is mortified. I can tell Mom wants to crawl under the table, hopefully to disappear through a hole in the floor. “No, no, no, she gave me a compliment,” I assure Mom. “Your little girl knows happy magic when she sees it, like that of the good witch, Glenda, from the ‘Wizard of Oz’.” The boys grin and nod their agreement. I cherish that compliment all day. As the last customers wave good-by, Sharon locks the door. Sharon, Steve, Lilia and I finish the closing chores. In the kitchen Ron grills lamb chops with all the trimmings. We sit down to the feast, tired and hungry. We bask in the satisfaction of a good day, well worked, with good friends and the magic of hearts at ease. And then another surprise appears, a birthday cake with candles flickering. Ron had baked it for me first thing that morning. My friends urge me to make a wish. I close my eyes and wish the love and the joy that surround us this moment be with us every day all year long. I blow out the candles and cut the cake. It is a magic birthday, the best birthday I ever had. Sondra Ashton HDN: Looking out my back door April 14, 2011 _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________