Memorable Birthday

My birthday is in little over a week...I'll wait while you insert "old" joke here.

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Done?

Ok...so... I was visiting a blog I read occasionally, not quite in full-stalk mode yet, but thought that it was too much of a coincidence not to take note of this writing prompt. Just keep in mind, it has to be REALLY memorable because I'm one of those whose birthdays gets lost in the holiday season. One who gets the infamous "It's your birthday AND Christmas present, all-in-one! Isn't that clever?" No. It's cheap only if you expect two separate presents from me, that is. Otherwise, I'm not bovvered. Do I look bovvered? (Just teasing...I'm just glad to get ANY presents!)

Here's my most memorable birthday in recent history...seven years ago...the first one I spent with the hubster when he was still just the boyfriend, not yet the fiance...the last one I celebrated while living in the monsterplex. But those aren't the reasons it's memorable, though they do play their part.

Let me back up a bit. My husband's birthday that year (2001, for those of you who don't have a calculator handy and find the math in my blog too tough) was pretty memorable in and of itself. He was supposed to fly home for a visit, to celebrate his birthday, and most importantly to celebrate his parents' GOLDEN anniversary. What a milestone! They had a HUGE soiree planned, all the friends and family were to be in attendance...including their only son!

He was set to fly out on September 12th. 2001. See where I'm going with this? Needless to say his international flight did not leave as scheduled and the soonest he was able to find an alternative flight was a week later. After his birthday. After the anniversary party. In the grand scheme of things? Minor. In importance to him personally? Major.

So he finally gets to the UK. While he's 4500+ miles away, my kidneys decide to act up and send out a stone to cause some chaos and surgery becomes a necessity. It's a good thing I was with friends and they were around to help take care of Joshua.

By the time December rolls around, Keith has worked out a surprise for me. One I would never have even thought to ask for on my own. One he has yet to out-do. Since we're still in LDR-mode (long-distance-relationship-mode), he drives up to the monsterplex with plans to wine and dine me. I am so in! Then he tells me to pack an overnight bag before we drive J over to the Howard family household. (pause)

Um, you can't tell a girl to pack a bag in 5 minutes. ESPECIALLY if she doesn't know where the heck she's going!! He responds to my confusion at that request with "just pack the essentials and something nice to wear to dinner." (pause)

Define "nice." Nice enough to JUST be seen in public? With or without heels "nice"? Meeting the Queen "nice"? Arrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhh! See the dilemma?? So I grab a "nice" blouse and a "nice" skirt. Throw in some "nice" heels, torture devices (aka the lingerie that puts everything back in the places they're supposed to be before gravity, motherhood, and age came along and ruined it for me) and my make-up. I even remembered to pack a toothbrush and toothpaste, brush, and pj's. Go me!

So, we drive to the Howard house which is 5 miles east of BFE and 30-ish miles from my place to drop off J. Check. Drive towards Dallas proper. Check. Start frantically trying to figure out where K is taking me. Check. Obsess that I didn't pack the right outfit even though I don't know WTH we're going. Check.

Once in Dallas, K heads in a direction that makes the possibilities a little more manageable.

I start thinking we're heading to The Crescent. No, the Adolphus. No, the Melrose. The Mansion? We JUST passed the Mansion! Oh, we're turning around. The Crescent maybe. He must be turned around, a little lost. Must be. What? We've just pulled into the The Mansion Restaurant valet lot. Wow, he's actually going to ask for directions. Wait. Are we having dinner here? Where am I going to get ready first?? Surely he doesn't expect me to get ready in the restroom? Or worse the car!

The valet is opening the door. "Are you staying the nght with us, miss?" How the heck am I supposed to know?? I have no idea, ask him, he's driving. What? WHAT?? We're staying HERE? Oh. My. Goodness. Breathe. Britney Spears stayed here!! We can't stay here! I didn't pack any nylons!

They're taking my bag. We're walking to the front desk to check in! I don't have any hose! Start mentally visualizing where the nearest Walgreens is so I can buy some hose. Do you understand the crisis, people???

Wow, we've checked in. Lush! Marble bathroom. Big, fluffy white bathrobes. I am so in heaven. What? Someone's at the door. Complimentary tea cakes?? Seriously, this IS heaven! But I still bet I should wear nylons with my heels, huh? I'm sure that's part of the dress code. Men must wear jackets, women must wear hose. Ugh.

Now where is the nearest Target?? The concierge is so gonna laugh his head off when I call down there to ask. What? What brand and size? That's a little nosy. OH! You'll send some up. Really? You'd do that for me?? Wow, I thought concierge was all about getting tickets to shows, bribing bouncers at the hotspots so we could get in, and ordering hookers. They get hosiery, too?? Concierge rocks!

Yeah, they sent up my hosiery on a silver platter and everything. Britney who? I'm the rock star now.