And a day, and a night… I’m sorry for the silence on the Face First front (if you’ve noticed?) but I’ve been living large IN THE REAL WORLD what!? It seems June is the festival month of births. Everyone who is anyone (i.e. my husband and friends) is born in June.
There has been a June bonanza of birthdays, and upon waking on Tuesday morning, I was slapped with the rude realisation that we’ve not all just turned 21. Thursday night – 1am. Friday work from 6am. Bed -10pm. Saturday night – 12pm. Sunday – BBQ at ours from midday – 1am. Monday – husband’s ACTUAL birthday, start-time, 7am with BOUNCING CHILDREN. I have learned something from this experience. Celebrations are bad for your health. This week? I will be holed up in my monastery, behaving like a monk, doing monk-like things. I will be drinking water (broth? holy water?), making friends with salad (gruel? vittels?), and going to the gym (err… kneeling for 5 hours? Ugh. I’d pick the stairmaster over that). I will sleep. And sleep, and sleep. (But it won’t be fun, cos I’m a monk).
It seems most of my friends are born in June. Why is that? What is it that happens nine months before June? Is it the springing of spring? Couples, walking around, see a baby lamb and a daffodil, and say ‘Oh! New life! We must procreate! QUICKLY! Give me your SEED!’ Or was it the irresistible music topping the charts in September 1976, when most of these friend-babies were conceived? In late August, early September the Australian no. 1 single was ABBA’s ‘Dancing Queen’. Ah. It all becomes clear. Young and sweet, only 17. That’s the music of LOVE, right there. Are you cringing yet, friends of mine?
In any case, preceding the festival of husband on Sunday, we went out in Manly Saturday night to celebrate a close friend’s birthday. It was a quiet and sedate night. In the cab on the way home one unnamed male party offered the cab driver a cheese stick from his pack of 12 he’d picked up from Colesworths, and the other asked the cabbie what he does for work. It turned out there were in fact TWENTY-FOUR cheese sticks. They were on special, so it made sense to buy two packets. We ate them all by the time we were home.
The lunchtime BBQ Sunday was a day full of friends, family, and kids going crazy. A wonderful fun day that ended in the night with a bonfire and toasted marshmallows. That Man is SMART, I tell you – having his party the day before. I awoke to excited kids, tiptoed away from Sleeping Beauty, and faced wine glasses that had procreated and had wine glass babies while we slept. Wrapped presents, blah blah YAY YAY IT”S YOUR BIRTHDAY YOU’RE REALLY OLD YAY YAY then I crashed out and slept on the couch for two hours. AHHHHHHHH. Job well done me. Then I cooked a gourmet seafood dinner. The only thing he said that was missing from his birthday? A cake with candles. SERIOUSLY. I’ll give him candles.
In any case, I had fun too. My festival of living in the real world was wonderful, connecting with friends and spending proper quality time with them. If you need me this week though, you’ll find me asleep on my stationary bike in my monk cell at the gym.*
*An update: it’s raining, a LOT. I can’t possibly go to the gym. Therefore I’ll just sit quietly and think repentant-type thoughts.
Do you still ‘do’ birthdays? Or do you let them slip by quietly like I do?