Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Birthannukah Win.

Birthannukah: how awesome was it? So. So very. Mr. Husband spoiled me rotten, he rallied the troops, and he was my constant feel-good companion. The best part was the visit from my mother. Mr. Husband loves my mother. And why not? My mother feeds him low fat Pringles and Cheetos non-stop. He calls my parents’ home in Florida the home of the endless Pringles. Whatever Mr. Husband wants, he gets. And so they cater to each other and I benefit. Win.

Birthannukah began with a sapphire and diamond ring. It’s true that I had a naked right hand. Mr. Husband bathed it in diamonds with a sleek dark blue stoned ring that makes me purr every time I look down at it. It goes perfectly with my apron and my mother while eating dinner on the upper porch. A fancy apron in my favorite colors, pink and black, came on the second day of Birthannukah with two new cookbooks. We have a baby shower coming up for Hind and Nader where I will test out many of the recipes in the appetizer cookbooks. I could live off appetizers. Need there ever be other food? Mr. Husband used the other cookbook to make cheese biscuits for his mother on Mother’s Day. Another win.

Mr. Husband was patient, kind, and our constant photographer while my mother steered us toward one mall after another. She’d breathe quickly, panting like a cat on the African plains, and pounce on the sale racks. She’d sigh and remind me time after time after time after time that “they don’t have stores like this in The Villages.” No big anchor mall stores for her in her simple little wine-induced bubble. Only country clubs and up-scale boutiques. No 50% off racks where you can use the all-day pass coupon for an additional 20% off. She never wanted to leave. I just wanted to play. Mr. Husband watched and guided us through store after store. He snapped photographs and listened to our laughter. He looked on proudly, knowing that he’d helped make it all happen. He’s right. He’s so very good. Win.

The pinnacle of my mother’s trip was not Belk’s super clearance shoe room (surprise), but a trip to my favorite restaurant: Chez Lulu. We descended upon the little village for cheese, fancy spreads, the best bread in town, and my favorite Brie sandwich with lentil soup. It wasn’t a Peasant Garlic soup day,
which was disappointing since my mother would never have stopped talking about that soup once she returned to her bubble in Florida. At all times, keep in mind that mother will constantly annoy others with her trip details if I can plan the perfect outing. My mother can do that so well—tell one detail after another about how great her trip was—until those listening are rolling their eyes. It’s like a gift I can give to others: treat her so darn good that she never shuts up about it. Mom was traveling back with my older brother and sister-in-law. I hope their ears bled from hearing about what a good time she had. Yes! Win.

Finally, the end. A perfect end. Friends for dinner—always the group of friends. We will grow old together celebrating birthday after birthday after birthday together. Two of them are pregnant at the moment. I sit and wait. We eat and we laugh. The wine is passed round the table. We get out our jazz hands. We have perfected the birthday jazz hands. I’m toasted, I’m roasted, and kissed by my man. I feel loved. I know happiness. It is another wonderful Birthannukah: the birthday that never stops.

The crowning glory is a Coach briefcase that we had to order. How regal and professional I feel with my new beauty on my arm. I can pretend to be anyone. Now I’m in Manhattan. Now I’m in Tokyo. Look at me in London! My important work documents never felt so very important. My old Liz Claiborne bag bought at an outlet nine years ago and losing its leather from the fabric underbelly has been retired. She did me good, but nothing can argue with a Coach. It’s pure sleek beauty. The best thing: the giant bag from the Coach store that the briefcase traveled home in. On Saturday, both cats fought over the right to lay on the bag. Bonita won. The Senator slapped her a few times, but she would not relent. The plastic of the bag was pure kitty gold. Win.