The first 12 of 45
I fell asleep last night wondering if musicians get goosebumps or tear up when they play their best songs live. I thought this after getting goosebumps and tearing up to this.
Comfortably Numb, live.
I drifted off to sleep having been wished ‘Happy Birthday’ from 3 countries in which I was already born – and with David Gilmore and Roger Waters echoing in my head.
9:30 p.m. I hear my son coughing violently in the kitchen – then:
Nic: “Don’t mind me – just choking”
Me: “Obviously you’re breathing”
Nic: “ha ha. Don’t rush out to check on me or anything”
Nic: “That’s my mom!” (as if he’s got a crowd he’s informing of this. “That’s my mom ladies and gentlemen”)
I smile and close my eyes.
10:30 p.m. Eyes back open. My son is church mousing around in the kitchen, the house shakes. He has inherited my delicate elephant stomp.
12:04 a.m. Awoke from a dream involving two special friends from the past and a mystery man – we’d gone on a crazy roller coaster and then to a Depeche Mode concert. Ended up on stage and of course, I was taking photos.
2:00 a.m. Butters stands beside my bed, breathing on me. I try to ignore her.
2:30 a.m. Butters stands closer – breathing more heavily. I get up, let dog out and leave front door open for the dog and any and all serial killers to have easier access to me while I returned to bed.
4:00 a.m. Seriously??? Dog is nowhere to be seen, so what the hell has roused me this time????
5:00 a.m. Peer at clock with gritty, tired eyes … too tired to roll them in anguish
5:30 a.m. I give up.
Didn’t have that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling as I scooted out of bed and wobbled to the bathroom.
I always at least have that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling first thing in the morning (well, on birthday mornings anyway, not every morning obviously)
I guess 45 is the cut off for that pink frosted feeling.
Son sleeping, dog still outside.
I microwave a cup of yesterdays coffee, because I’m too lazy and uncoordinated to make a new pot.
Shower cap in hand, towel at the ready, I sit and wait for my alarm, because I have no clue how to turn it off prematurely.
6:00 a.m. Shower. I ponder while I’m in there.
Why do men have the best razors??
Seriously, considering the skin footage we women have to shave compared to men – shouldn’t ours be cutting edge? (No pun intended) and don’t give me that ‘But men have to shave their delicate angled faces’ crap, because you know as well as I do that women shave a hell of a lot more ‘delicate’ places and we have curves and angles too!
I will only buy mens razors.
7:10 a.m Dressed – still sipping my microwaved coffee – my mum calls and sings at me from the dog park.
7:20 a.m. I’m milling about the house now … always ready early – always restless.
I spy a banana in the fruit bowl that looks like a duck. I think perhaps it was bored, in there all alone – and decided to morph in order to have some fun.
I decide I like that banana instantly.
I give Butters two of her biscuits and then proceed to tip two vitamins in my hand and pop them in my mouth – along with dog biscuit crumbs.
*sigh* I’ll count that as breakfast.
7:35 a.m. I decide to plant a kiss on my sleeping sons cheek – he’s shirtless in bed with a sunburn
Me: “Hey naked … I’m outta here”
(I’m sure he’s got ‘Happy Birthday’ planned to exit his mouth later.)
Out the door I go.
I hope for a really amazing song in the car – no luck. I end up pretending to know the words to a new Shakira song and sing out of key.
7:45 a.m. Arrive at work.
I unlock the door … notice the ‘Happy Birthday’ sign place above my desk has fallen off of the wall. I put it back up after I disable the buildings alarm. Then I wonder if that’s self-appreciating or just helpful. Decide it doesn’t matter, my OCD needs that sign back up where it was.
There is a birthday card on my keyboard.
A little while later, another card heads my way in the hands of my sweet friend Ruth. A tiny ribboned box perches atop it.
The card cracks me up.
This is it:
The little box opens to reveal a teeny tiny necklace. This friend knows me well. I love ‘little’. I love delicate. I love the necklace and she stands behind me and puts it on.
Friend: “Now we’re married.”
I’m thinking I could do a lot worse. She’s amazing. And she knows my humor and taste.
We would be bound to have a long and successful union – except she’s still madly in love with her husband.
The broker comes through the door with the most adorable tulips – and yes, they’re for me.
I’m feeling spoiled – and it’s only 9:15 a.m
10:48 a.m. Finally got a Happy Birthday from my son.
He has accompanied his girlfriend to the dentist and the following instant messages ensued:
Him: I just saw a turtle wet a fallen flower
Me: It would have been funnier if it HAD wetted it
Him: Lol, well the flower just fell from a nude into the water, and the turtle ate it and went underwater, So I guess he did. Lol
Me: I don’t even want to know why your ipad confuses ‘bush’ with ‘nude’ lmao
Him: lol, oh no.
Him: Happy birthday by the way
We have the strangest conversations. I hope he doesn’t eat the duck banana before I can point it out to him.
Yeah sure, I could show him a photo – but it’s so much better to meet a duck banana in the flesh … peel?
My boss takes me to lunch from 11:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. We sit outside and chat. The view is gorgeous. I enjoy her company. We shared a room on a business trip to Phoenix a while ago – and over 8 hours in the car together. I like her. That’s the true test you know, a long car ride and sharing a room successfully.
I have the Mahi-Mahi wrap with wasabi and soy – SO good.
First meal of my 45th year, other than that dog biscuit crumb I had for breakfast.
You know, I never thought I’d make it to 30, let alone 40 … and now I’m half way to 90 for crying out loud!
And 90 is doable. Considering my little and delicate nannie just celebrated 91.
If I wore her on a necklace, close to my clavicle, she might see 101.
Home now, my parents have just left – and wouldn’t you know it? A pink frosted thing came with them.
I’m too full and too tired to eat any of it – but after the first 12, I did catch a glimpse of that ‘it’s my birthday’ feeling.
Paris with a friend
We met very near the chandeliers we had joked about. I had just given my car over to valet and entered the Paris Las Vegas when there she was. My best friend.
Timing couldn’t have been better, and given the sea of people, nothing short of a miracle that we found each other at all.
Rewind to Christmas.
Santa brought me a cold/flu of some sort. Wasn’t that nice? I got through the day, and kept a smile on my face – but the day afterwards, I stayed in bed.
I never do that.
Crawl onto the couch when I’m feeling under the weather – yes. Stay in bed all day? Nope.
I had no choice. My head felt like I had angry bees with sledge hammers in it. Someone must have also sneaked Rice Crispies into my sinuses and ears.
I was SO determined not to miss my lunch date on Friday that I let my fever run. (We have fevers for a reason no? The body’s way of fighting whatever has invaded our body?) I hydrated and coughed and even had that sexy gravely voice. Joking aside, I haven’t felt that rotten in years, and I was starting to fear I would miss seeing my friend for our annual get together.
I had posted my status on Facebook – to which my friend’s mom commented: Don’t get Lisa sick!
That made me smile – such a mom thing to say – and if my fever hadn’t broken, I would not have taken the chance of doing just that.
But break it did!
I still felt about 40% of my usual self, but excitement cloaked my lack of physical energy with a mental enthusiasm.
Off to Vegas I went.
The red roped entrance to the only way you can get to the restaurant is manned by a very well dressed secret service looking gentleman – with an earpiece and shiny badge.
Lisa advised we had reservations and we were escorted to the elevator.
It wasn’t until the doors closed and we began our ascent, that Lisa joked “I hope you’re not afraid of heights.”
But I was still cloaked in excitement – and impervious to such phobias in that moment.
The elevator stopped – doors opened and …
“Are we on the right floor?”
We were. This is the first thing you see!
Lisa and I are huge chef/food fans. If they had said we could sit in the kitchen, I’m sure we both would have leapt at the chance.
But then we would have missed the amazing table we were seated at.
The very right side corner in the top of the above picture was to be our spot.
The bottom photo shows an advertisement for the restaurant – which, also happens to be our table.
Best seat in the house.
Directly across from the Bellagio fountains.
We were brought menus that weren’t read for a while – too much to talk about!
But hunger won out. We decided to start with appetizers, well, an appetizer and an entree that we decided would also be an appetizer.
Our drinks arrived first – I had the most amazing concoction … Cucumber Lemonade.
Who thought that up? I’m glad they did.
Bread and then a tiny vessel (I’m sure it has a proper name) of cauliflower puree with rice cracker seed ‘balls’ was placed in front of us.
It was like cauliflower pudding. Cold and adorable and delicious!
The appetizers followed – Cold Foie Gras Torchon (Duck prosciutto, fig compote, Brioche) and an Assortment of French Cheese (with Walnut Raisin Bread and Apricot Chutney.)
I was leery of the fig compote – I’m not a fig fan. But I was absolutely going to try everything! I’m SO glad I did. It was incredible!
(Lisa made me eat my micro greens too.)
More chatting – catching up … the staff kept coming by but I wasn’t letting the food go. I know neither of us wanted to rush the time together, but I also didn’t want to rush the culinary experience! I was determined to savor each bite.
Eventually we let them take the plates (not without me asking for the remains to be placed in a box that would come with me.)
I had the Baked Crepes. Filled with Artichokes, Roasted Tomato Coulis and Basil.
Lisa ordered the Aged Parmesan Crusted Chicken. Potato Gratin and Vegetables shared the plate with that.
Every bite was delicious – and yes, I made it over to Lisa’s plate too.
There was nothing to box from the entrees. Plates were cleaned.
More chatting – and the fountains had started doing their fountainy thing.
You can imagine, there was so much to look at and so much to talk about – but we did eventually get around to dessert.
The Creme Brulee and Triple Chocolate Cake with Creme Fraiche.
The cake was deceiving – it looked like fudge! Seemed as if it would be dense, but our forks slipped right through and how they made all that chocolate so light and airy had to be some molecular gastronomy trick.
I had been escorted to the bathroom earlier (Yes, it was ‘that’ kind of fancy – “Pardon me, where are your bathrooms?” “May I show you?” Why yes, yes you may.) and told Lisa we had to go back before we left.
So after reluctantly prying ourselves away from the table – we went to freshen up and of course, take some photos.
We took ‘selfies’ to a new level at the fancy vanity.
Oh, and the top left was while we were waiting for our table, and the top right was taken by our very sweet bus boy.
We definitely needed to walk some of that lunch off – so we almost made it to the elevator when I remembered my cardigan was on the back of my chair. Retrieved that and past the kitchen we went – glancing longingly at the behind the scenes action – then down the Eiffel Tower into the belly of the Casino.
We walked outside for a bit – then back inside to explore Paris.
It was getting late in the afternoon – I live in a different time zone and knew I still had to navigate the Vegas roads to find my way to a Freeway I was familiar with before the sun got any lower in the sky.
(That’s a whole other post – Vegas drivers are bonkers! I was shaking at one point – with people taking the 75 mph signs as a minimum, not a limit. Barreling down on me, as I squinted at upcoming signs to watch for my exit – which, I missed. I learned a) I’m pretty sure I need glasses and b) If I ever do win the lottery, I’m hiring a driver for long trips on scary fast roads!)
Tangent over – let’s get to the difficult part.
Goodbyes are hard.
Lisa stood with me in Valet – and for some time after I had my car and was trying to merge into the exit lane. This became comical as she stood beside my car on the sidewalk as cycle after cycle of green/red lights afforded me only inches of movement.
I finally turned onto the strip and looked over my shoulder to see her in the crowd – but could not.
Giant sigh – sad heart.
We talk almost everyday – she knows everything there is to know about me. The good the bad – and the things we only ever tell one person. And considering how willing to share I am, you know those things are deep and very private.
She makes me laugh, she knows my likes and dislikes, my hopes and dreams – and she encourages them or brings me back to reality – depending on the situation.
And yet, I only get to see her once a year.
And I was not going to let a fever take this day away.
I feel a little silly – my eyes watering while I type those words. I just miss her you know?
I miss my friend.
And I’m so glad I got to share such an amazing experience with her.
So until next year – I love you Lisa. And thank you for crossing one of my bucket list items off.
Musings from the Laundromat: Cake, foot-in-mouth and Mr. Stare edition
Had to do some serious motivational speeches in my head this morning to get out of bed and to the laundromat. Mostly they consisted of: ‘when you get everything done, you can have cake.’
Some were more along the lines of ‘You get out of life what you put into it’ and ‘you’ll feel better after your chores are done and you can relax’ but, mostly they all ended with cake.
So here I am. Things weren’t looking good when I arrived.
Someone was at my table. (‘My’ table, lol)
Not just anybody – but a male who, I felt looking at me the whole time I was putting my items in the washing machines. I tried not to look up, but eventually had to and when I made eye contact, he didn’t break it!
Creeped me out. I felt his stare and could see his focus on me in my peripheral vision.
I hurried to the rainbow umbrella table and stared ahead. At this lovely sight.
Yes, the laundromat bathrooms are ready for Halloween. Good grief.
Normally this would please me – but sitting under the giant rainbow umbrella juxtaposed with staring at such a dank, yellowed, dismal view left me feeling uncomfortable.
Especially since Mr. Stare was still staring at me from MY table.
The view and the sensation were about as pleasant as finding a Band Aid in the dryer, after drying your clothes and knowing no one at your house injured themselves.
That kind of unpleasant.
Anyway – he’s gone now.
So back to motivation and cake.
My son’s girlfriend turned 19 yesterday and when they returned from a day at her house and dinner – they sat and we chatted and laughed AND … she had brought me a piece of saved cake.
It wasn’t until she left and Nic squirreled his way under my tin foiled treasure, that it was revealed in all it’s cakey glory that it came with candles.
How adorable is that? Who thinks to leave them in?
Well, it certainly had the appropriate number of candles because I behaved as if I were three yesterday.
I have this annoying habit of speaking my mind.
I really try not to! I do!
I sit myself down and explain why it is not a good time to bring something up, or why I should not say what’s on my mind. I nod at myself and agree – then proceed to do it anyway.
I infuriate me sometimes. But I can never stay mad at me long.
So the weekend has pretty much consisted of me behaving like a 3 year-old – being extra emotional – feeling insecure, crying at animal videos and craving cake.
Even Butters has been in an odd mood. She took herself off to bed last night after giving up waiting on me and she’s doing her really good imitation one of those poor, unloved animals you see on those gut wrenching commercials.
Notice she’s being very ‘unloved’ from her spot on my bed. Which I’m allowing even though she’s shedding like crazy.
I’m hoping to cheer myself and the dog up by cleaning when I get home with the laundry and letting some light and fresh air into the house.
And! By removing the foot from my mouth and inserting cake.