Let the celebrations begin…

It isn’t my actual birthday until 19th but I’m celebrating my big five oh with a massive party this weekend. I am SO EXCITED.

So excited, that it’s 5am and instead of being in bed deeply zzzzz-ing, I am babbling (again) from  my bathtub . When I said I’d make it a regular feature of it I really didn’t envisage sneaking out of bed in the middle of the night to do it, but , hey, here I am with a glass of milk, blogging in the bath.

I love birthdays anyway. Not for the presents (although they are lovely to receive) but for the connection with friends, the cards and, mostly, the excuse for a celebration…drinks, dancing, laughter and lots of hugging and affirmation of being loved and sharing precious moments. I love reflecting on past years and creating new memories to recount throughout the next.

I also love the build up.

This year we, that’s Hubby and I have been party planning. Last year we had an amazing party for his 60th so decided to use the same format this year for my 50th but with him organising everything bar the food. So we set up an event on FB really early to get everyone in the mood and to give enough notice to those travelling from further afield. . Regular weekly updates and prompts. Two months of bulk cooking and freezing. Arranging accommodation,organising musicians , liaising with the venue. Dress shopping… All a bit like wedding planning with less white silk and no fresh flowers!

And today it began. Sisters and friends from afar have begun to arrive and we’ve had what we like to refer to as a pre party party …..

Anyway, I should now be sound asleep, but like a child waiting for Santa I just cannot calm down enough…. Fortunately no-one else is trying to out-stay-awake-me in order to hang a stocking on my bed post…..

Watch this space for a post hangover review of the weekend ….. Happy birthday to me!!!!

Party panic…

I’ve woken up stressing.  I have a BIG birthday coming up and a big party planned for it. I am not the slightest bit worried about reaching the end of my 50th year on this planet. I’m also massively excited like a kid waiting for Santa, at the prospects of the party night. I’ll be surrounded by the most wo derful people I have the honour and joy of knowing and am lucky enough to have as friends. It’s overwhelming how many wonderful people I know and love, most surprisingly how many love me back. And they will (mostly) all be here from all over the country to share this moment in time with me in a few days. I’m fit to burst.

HOWEVER…..

HOW THE HELL DO WOMEN COPE ON DON’T TELL THE BRIDE?!?!

I have left Hubby in charge of the details  ie invites, music, venue ,stage; decor ,cake (?)… omg i’ve just realised i’m writing this blog as a subtle (?!?!!!!!) checklist for his good self…. I am truly a control freak!

NO. MY FREAKY OUT NESS is about the catering. The one not so small aspect I have taken control of… but without the involvement in the before, after and logistics.  So have woken in a cold sweat.

1, I don’t think I’ve catered for enough people.  I had planned to cook weekly and freeze ready to finish off on the day but I think there will be far more people at the venue than i’ve prepared food for

2: it’s a hot buffet. I asked Hubby to check it could happen at the venue. It can BUT The venue want me to wait until their restaurant closes.  How and when will I heat all the food and set it out? How can I relax and enjoy the party if we can’t use the kitchen until 9pm. It just won’t work

3. So how much should I interfere in the planning to sort this out or should I assume Hubby has a ‘kitchen team’ who will step up and action everything when the time comes?

3: I mean . There is food in various locations around the village… freezer space on loan. This food needs to rash the same cation be defrosted but some needs to be chilled,some heated and all laid out. How? By whom? I mean. It’s my birthday I plan to be pissed by 9pm not having spent 3 hours in a kitchen

4: and which kitchen if I can’t use the venue one until 9pm. This plan just won’t work

5: what i’m saying is (without wishing to interfere in Hubby’smaster plan) is that the food needs to be MUCH earlier otherwise I can’t partake in the party…

Over to you Hubster. …

 

The Illusion of time…

time

The earth rotates through light and dark; seasonal changes; constellations come and go from our skies. We make sense of this movement by dividing it into chunks: years, seasons, months, weeks, days and nights, hours, minutes, seconds. Man-made constructs to conform our lives and inter-react across homes, towns, countries, continents.  We can measure the generations; relate to our ancestors; make sense of centuries and even discuss in terms of millenia.

It’s the most fundamental level of conformism that we all participate in.  Imagine the chaos if we all did our own thing..

Anyway the whole point of this is that I just had several family birthdays to contend with.  It’s all very inconvenient because they all fall in the same month , in fact, in the same fortnight and right on top of the busiest time of my year and far too close to the celebrations called Christmas.  Maybe we should just move them to a more convenient time?!

Anyway.  My son reached 18 earth years and I reached the unwelcoming number 48.  That amounts to (roughly) 17,520 days or 420,480 hours. I wonder how many of those I have wasted?  I prefer to think there were all of value.

What is interesting is how some of those hours seemed to pass more quickly than others.  Some of those summers raced by. Some of those seasons went on for an eternity. Some of those memories seem to have been eons ago others only days.  How can it be 18 years (6570 days) since my son was born? It seems to have gone so fast.  How can we have only have lived in Wales 11 years?  It feels like a whole lifetime.

It’s a man-made construct but its far from linear, it bends and stretches, slides and folds. We might be able to measure it but we still have no control over it.

We measure our lives in years; for me, so far , that’ll be forty-eight of them.

My husband pointed out to me that if I was on Mars I’d only be twenty-four.  Sometimes life is so strange I think that everyone must be from another planet.  Maybe it’s me.  So, I think I’ll go with that.  I officially declare myself a 24-year-old Martian.  Happy Birthday to me.  I’ll be celebrating my 25th in two of your earth years.