Yo ho 36?
October 1, 2005My 36th birthday
Onemana, New Zealand
5:31pm
It’s my birthday today.
Allow me to wax on how significant the last 12 months has been;
Massive depression after 35th birthday, complete and utter loss of identity, house appraisal, shimmer of hope, house sale, hope turns into reality, giving notice at work, addiction to comfort gone, last day of work, strangely sad, party with friends, strangely not sad, plane rides and beaches and more beaches and holiday homes and waves of depression still, but conquerable, and then suddenly fear of future gone, writing tons, weight loss, confidence returning, love for son and wife never stronger. Phew. No coffee thanks; just the cheque would be great.
As far as change and life disruption goes it may go down as the most dramatic 12 months of my life. Dramatic and brave or stupid. But everyone knows it’s a fine line between brevity and stupidity. A line, thank goodness I cannot see.
Lots to cover today including the payback dinner with Carol and John and their son Anthony, my aromatherapy massage with Holly that Steph got me for birthday, and finally today’s playground opening with tons of mini pirates (and some big ones) running around under a cloud covered sky.
First up, our neighbours across the street over for dinner on Thursday night. I must admit, things have fizzled between Carol and I. I think it’s a lack of communication issue, mainly; I have trouble saying anything during our conversations. She is like an avalanche of words, and I am the one hand sticking my hand up in the snow holding a single word, only to be covered by the next rolling mass of words, until I try in vain to muscle up to the top to stick my hand up again and just as I bust through, sweet Jesus, another wave of words buries me under. I think I will wait for the St. Bernard, dictionary around its neck instead of a cask.
Anyway, dinner was a success, me over exaggerating (never!) a little about not being able to talk, and I did find John quite engaging with his tales of conferences in Singapore (he was a builder) and being roped into buying fake watches, which he reckons are pretty good. He has soft eyes and a simple way of story telling that led me to slap his back in affection and almost camaraderie. And then of course, there was Anthony. A few weeks ago, when we were at their house for dinner, Carol mentioned she had two sons, one older, who was married to a crusty old skate who barely lets her kids near their grandparents, and one younger, Anthony, who was the real “city boy” who loves the waterfront café and bar scene and lived with a 45 year old woman. Anthony is thirty. Steph immediately made the assumption he was dating the older lady, where my immediate assumption was different. My gaydar starting beeping, and I was almost positive that Anthony is playing for the other team. It was just they way Carol described him, almost apologetically, but still with heaps of affection. So when they arrived, I was curious to see if my instincts were indeed accurate. Well within minutes of smelling his cologne, seeing his fancy dress shirt and him saying the word fabulous to describe the roast beef I made for dinner, I felt confident my instincts were correct. He was a great guy and it was nice to have someone around our age to talk to. He also liked red wine as much as Steph and I, which was a relief, everyone else in this tiny town never seem to have more than one glass. I, of course, never like to have less than one bottle at a good dinner, but maybe I am the exception and not the rule. See how much smarter I am getting now that I am 36?
Hud took a shine to Anthony as well, playing on the ground with him after dinner, building a great Lego building, which Hud kept intact for almost an hour, a household record. They left at around 9, and Steph and I pat our backs for still being great hosts, no matter where the hell we live. Oh, for the foodies, we had a roast beef which I stuck whole cloves of garlic in and covered with red wine, slow roasted it as it wasn’t the best cut, with it we served roast potatoes with garlic and other dried herbs, carrots with mint and steamed green beans. Steph made scones with fresh whipped cream and a berry coulis for dessert, which we ate with dark coffee. Well I had a beer in a wine glass as per my norm. First beer since September 10th I will have you know. Weight loss and all.
Next up, Friday. Steph has been great all week stealing Hudson away to let me get writing done. It was another great week, just under 16,000 words, and 29 pages, leaving me at just over 120 pages in. 200 pages before November seems pretty attainable at this rate. We shall see.
So after Steph returned from the beach in the morning, we relaxed until it was time to drive me town for my aromatherapy massage appointment, my birthday present. Now I have had two real massages in my life, one on my honeymoon, where I first realized how close they get to the old franks and beans, and once just before we left on this trip, when I had a mysterious fever, and this Asian fucker pressed his hands, fingers, elbows, whatever, into me so hard I almost stood up and back handed him across the room. So my feelings were mixed. But this was nice. Holly, a Maori woman took me in the candle lit room and shook my hand. She was a big woman, as Maoris tend to be, but had a real pleasant face and a really soft voice. She instructed me to take off my clothes and lie face down on the table. Being green in the massage area I asked how much I should disrobe. She said as far as I wanted, if I wanted to leave my underpants (sounds so three year old!) on I could. I didn’t want to, being naked doesn’t bother me, I just didn’t want to get all buck and then hop on the table, only to have her scream a war cry upon her return, seeing my white ass propped up on the massage table.
She did not scream when she returned and she gently covered my entire body with warm towels to let me get fully relaxed. Fully relaxed. What does that mean exactly? You see I had a four-bean salad for lunch, (with spinach and celery for the foodies! Wink), I also am a reasonably easy-to-arouse man, add that to the fact that I am always wary that my dogs might have a pungent tang to them, and I was tighter than fist buried in cement on that table. I was so afraid that something on my body might release, harden, or smell, so my relaxation was a little hard,..er…I mean difficult to come…er…achieve…er…I couldn’t quite relax ok?
I did get over it. She was a professional and nothing hardened (thoughts of baseball, and monkeys and shark attacks helped), nothing released, the beans not quite doing their work until later (lucky Steph) and my feet were so lathered in lavender oil, that they just smelled, well, like lavender.
After, I was all oiled up and we went out for dinner. A nice pizza pasta place with all sorts of other kids, so Hud felt comfortable. I had a penne carbonara, perhaps the most fattening dish on the planet, Steph had seafood pasta and Hud had the Hawaiian pizza. It was a great birthday meal. We drove home and waddled inside. Sleep came easy.
Today. My actual birthday. At least this hemisphere’s version of my actual birthday. Steph let me sleep in, which I almost did, but then I just read my new book (Mailer’s Tough Guys Don’t Dance, so far, so good) and relaxed. I went downstairs and continued to relax while Steph made banana pancakes and Hud presented me with the card he made with his mother. He had already presented it to me the day before but it’s easy to sell happy to a kid with an electric smile.
We ate, I read, Steph played with Hud, I napped on the hammock overlooking the cow pasture and ocean, I slipped upstairs for a real nap and general forced laziness. At 1:30 we got Hud ready to go to the official opening of the new playground. He looked great with his pirate gear on, but suddenly became hesitant because of the impending interaction with kids he does not know.
I have to learn how to deal with his mood swings better. Every day is a new lesson to learn as a father. We arrived at the playground and the place was teaming with kids in various states of pirate dress. Hud hung back a little, checking out the scene, eating the free sausages donated by the junior rugby league. I had three sausages, but who is counting. After the cutting of the ceremonial ribbon, the Coromandel FM dj hosting instructed everyone down the beach for a treasure hunt.
Hud, now fueled by chocolate and sausage became more animated and dug with Steph to no avail.
I took her place and within seconds we found the little plastic bag with a number on it. We handed it in and got a little gold bar as our treasure. A gold bar of chocolate. Hud snarfed it down accordingly.
It started to rain so everyone jammed under the tent (sponsored by the local real estate company of course), to see who won the best-dressed pirate costume. Well our little boy won one of the loot bags, and the DJ called his name so loud on the microphone that he burst out in a little puddle of tears, thinking he had done something wrong. Poor little man. He is so fragile sometimes.
Oh, before I forget, earlier on in the week Hud and I and some other kids got our picture in the local paper. It was an article about the opening of the playground and we happened to be there when the photographer was there snapping pics. Everywhere we go, the media is always hounding us. I will post it here when someone e-mails us the scanned picture.
Also, a magazine back home has asked me to write a couple of articles on spec, slice of life kind of things. I may have some words for her.
So that is that. A long post to catch up on the last couple of days. Most of pictures are from today. Where I got to where a big plastic earring and say arrrrrghhh maties all day.
I loved it. Happy birthday to me.
Love to all,
J.
Oh. March 15th if anyone is interested.
posted by Jason @ 12:15 AM
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