Last night I threw Husband a birthday party. Actually, “threw” and “party” are not really the right words for what I did. Throwing a party implies invitations and themes and party platters and mood lighting and origination. Like I am about life, I’m a passive aggressive party planner. I just invited folks via Facebook messenger to show up at the bar he was playing at and wear stupid hats I bought at the dollar store if they wanted. See, not really “threw a party. “But, despite my passive aggressive, very non-party planning plan, it had the same effect on him as if I had done actually thrown him a party. HE HATED IT! So much so that when we’d said goodnight to everyone and loaded his loot up into the car, he turned to me and said, “Don’t ever do that again.” Not in a mean way at all. In a tortured, angsty way, “this is the worst thing you could have done to me” way.
It was awesome.
Why? Well, because I am the type of person who will go out of my way to get the grumpy checkout girl to smile. I feel great joy when I can eeak a smirk out of a driver in traffic. It makes my day when I get people standing in line with me to snort at a joke. And Husband, Husband is grumpy the entire month of December so getting a smile out of him – even if it’s forced because people are singing to him – is a win.
So was watching him sing his pretty songs while wearing not one but two birthday hats made my night. And seeing him actually eating the cake the lovely hostess of the writer’s night made him, something his food issues prevent him from normally doing, was a joy to watch. And sneaking peaks at him while he chatted with our Nashville friends, new friends who showed up to wish him a happy birthday and tease him about his angst made me giddy. And I couldn’t stop laughing when I caught him wincing as the other writers sang him happy birthday. I enjoyed myself so dang much – almost as much as he HATED IT!
The thing that’s so neat about his friends is that they get him. All the weird quirks and funky sense of humor, they get that. His buddies from Scotland – new friends to us – gave him this so he can make himself chips -
How funny is that? A gift of Scotland; deep-fried chips. Chips they offered to come over and actually make them for him but because of his eating issues, she made a comment that she’d have to cook them while wearing gloves and that she “wasne` gonnae do that!” Hence the fixings for chips AND instructions on how to make them. Hysterical.
Another friend made him fudge – and gave the box to me because she knows he can’t eat it but she’s ever hopeful he will. How awesome is that? I love how they all love him for him.
Anyway, a good night! Good fun and someone else's angst make life worth living.
On a totally unrelated note, I decided to cut my hair yesterday. As friend of mine would say, I got a wild hare – pun intended. I used a lip-gloss as a measuring stick and pulled each twist up along side it and cut off the bits past the ends. Very scientific. Very much not the way to cut your hair – no matter what kind you have. Especially when you forget that springy Afro hair that is long and droopy when pulled out gets much, much shorter when it bounces back. Much. MUCH. Shorter. (I was going to post a picture of the hair no longer on my head but no matter the angle, the pile looked like some kind of creepy bug so no picture will follow. You're welcome.)
And so that makes BEST thing about the party for Husband, that the two party hats on my head distracted him from the bad haircut. Win WIN!
My name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me