The Big 4-0

It’s not every day that a gal turns 40 and for S’s best friend P, her big day was last Friday. We (her friends) started talking about what to do to celebrate her birthday back in February. It was P’s wish to have a nice dinner out with her girlfriends on the Friday night and then a BBQ with family and friends on the Saturday.

Last month, we began to put things in motion. We sent out invitations, made reservations and began discussing what would be needed for the BBQ, which was going to be held at our friends’ (D & C) place. From the start, the planning of the two events was a bit rough. On the invitation, we had said that the BBQ was BYOB, that food would be provided. It was clear from the onset that D & C were not pleased with that.

Many of the invitees (especially for the Friday night dinner) replied back that they would be out of town that weekend. P’s own sister said she’d committed to a shopping trip to the US and she wouldn’t be able to attend.

Things were further complicated by D and C’s … what’s the word??? Oh, I know, cheapness! C is very cheap and is also quite headstrong, stubborn and rough around the edges. S had mentioned to D that P would appreciate having her, one of her closest and long-time friends, attend the dinner on Friday night. D told S she would think about it. A few days later, P was at D & C’s place and C mentioned several times to P, “so, it’s ok with you if we don’t go on Friday night?” I think P would have loved having D join us for dinner, but she didn’t force the issue with C.

Once we had an idea of how many people would be coming to the BBQ, I sent out a note to the gals throwing out some suggestions for food. S thought it would be a good idea to get some chicken breasts since not everyone is a fan of hot dogs and hamburgers. D replied to my e-mail, “I don’t think we need chicken unless someone doesn’t eat meat. I’m fine with everything else.” So that was that. “You know,” S told me on our way to the BBQ, “if we were hosting this, we’d be having chicken and salmon steaks.”

As the big day drew nearer, we began to fret about what to get P as a gift. In a conversation with S, D said, “well, aren’t the dinner and BBQ enough?” S promptly said it wasn’t, after all, turning 40 is a pretty big deal. A few ideas were tossed around. Would everyone be ok with splitting the cost of P’s spa day? Everyone was, except for D who thought it would be too expensive. At the last minute, K remembered that P liked a particular bracelet at Tiffany’s. After calling the store and finding that they had it in stock, I promised I would go after work on the Friday to pick it up.

I had planned to stop in and pick up flowers for P and S (after all, why should the birthday girl be the only one to get flowers?) but having to go to Tiffany’s would require some more time. So I left work a bit early to leave myself enough time for the things I wanted to buy. I had a print-out of what the bracelet looked like and I walked up to the counter in the store and waited for someone to help me. “Is anyone helping you?” a pregnant woman behind the counter asked me.

“No,” I replied, “I was hoping someone would.”

“Have you given your name in?” she asked.

“Uh,” I began, “no. Where do I do that?” The girl said there was a woman standing at the entrance of the room and she would be happy to take my name. I did that and waited about 20 minutes to get served. A young blonde girl with braces asked me how she could help me. I showed her the bracelet and she walked me over to where it was. Five minutes later, I was walking out of the store with a little blue bag in my hand.

I then walked to the florists and bought two bouquets, one for the birthday girl and one for my lovely. Both gals were surprised by their flowers. The three of us then vegged out until it was time to leave for the restaurant. We had originally made the reservation for fourteen people but because of the rejections, had reduced that to nine. As the four of us (S, P, K and I) sat at our table, S was fuming about D’s decision not to come. “They’ve been friends forever, there’s no reason she couldn’t have made the effort to come.”

We were soon joined by another friend of P’s and then it was the five of us for about forty minutes. S was so disappointed by the turnout. We felt bad about occupying such a large table when there were only a few of us so we were going to ask our waitress if it’d be best to move us elsewhere. Thankfully, two of P’s colleagues showed up bumping the number in our group to seven. The rest of the evening went well, the food was good (except for K’s dish which had a hair in it) and the company was great.

Saturday morning was spent running around taking care of some errands. While finishing up in the shower, S was in the bathroom drying her hair. She put on her sardonic voice and began mocking D & C:

“BYOB actually means Bring Your Own BBQ, using our own would be too expensive.”

“Nothing but the best at our BBQ’s, only the very best in mechanically separated meat.”

“Oh hi, if you’re coming to the BBQ, do you mind bringing a little something? Some salad? Condiments, perhaps?”

“We’ll be providing the meat, but you’re on your own for buns.”

I was killing myself laughing. “This is great blog material!” I said.

The BBQ itself went pretty well. Even though S was still mad at D, she played nice. We sat around and mingled with the other guests and watched as the puppies ran around. The strangest thing happened, our very own little head, who usually hates all other dogs, became smitten with another dog at the party. She barked up a storm at him, chased him and did everything she could do get his attention. Unfortunately, the other dog had no desire to be little head’s friend. S and I just sat where we were, shocked that our own little gal pal was actually trying to make friends!

While C was BBQ’ing the burgers and hot dogs, she and S had a bit of an exchange. C has been a jealous bitch ever since we got our truck last summer. “Only old people drive silver cars,” C began digging at S.

“Get it right,” S snapped back. “Old people drive gold coloured cars.”

“No they don’t,” C continued to antagonize. “Old people drive Buicks.” To avoid having things lead to a fight, S walked away.

Not long after, gifts were opened and cake was eaten and the guests began to disperse. The sun had set and it was rather chilly out. S, who was in capri’s and sandals was quite cold. “What,” C began again, “don’t you know how to dress for May?” Minutes later we were on the road and on our way home. “I only tolerate C because D’s my friend,” S said. “But I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to put up with her.”

We wound the night out with some Starbucks and happy in the knowledge that P was able to have a great birthday weekend.