40 Rocks

Editor’s Note: I am the first to confess that angry rants, pathetic whingeing, or a good horror story make for superior literary content than do sappy gushing descriptions of bliss-laden events (because, really, laughing at the misery of others somehow raises our estimations of our own experiences) - but I’ve had a damn good week, and therefore feel I deserve a little self-indulgent boasting. If accounts of saccharine happiness gross you out, just skim over the following text and click on the pictures instead. I promise to regain my edge during the upcoming holiday season.




Friday, November 16, 2007

Rrrrring. Rrrrring.

(Actually, my mobile phone plays “Every Breath You Take”, but I’ve taken creative liberties for narrative purposes.)

“Hello, Baaaaaabeeee!” Looking up to the 18th floor of our building, I see Kevin waving from the balcony. “What? You just couldn’t wait till I made it up the elevator to say ‘Hi’ ”.

I wave back.

“Hey. Um, I had to pee really bad when I got home from work, and I left my laptop in the trunk. Can you pick it up for me on your way up?”

“Goofball. Sure thing.”

“See ya in a bit.”

After a brief detour to the trash bins in search of discarded treasure (nothing but a couple of high quality packing boxes…may come in handy), approaching the rear of the car, suspicion suddenly rising – come to think of it, he sounded a little strained, maybe even smug…heyyyy, my birthday is next Wednesday…and I’ve been asking for a new camera.

I open the trunk and smile the deepest, warmest smile I’ve smiled by his making in a long while. Maybe not since the time he hid a series of clues in plastic Easter Eggs that eventually lead me to a generous gift certificate from Nordstrom. There, in the trunk, is a beautifully wrapped parcel, just the right size to be a Pentax Optio S10 with video capability, and a rather apropos card.

I won’t need to remember…the next time you do something stupid, honey, I will have captured it in living color (with audio!) and will be sharing it with the world through the magic of the internet.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Saturated with sleep, I groggily make my way into the kitchen in search of coffee.

“It’s ready to go.” He says. I turn on the burner and shuffle to the computer to post my birthday blog. I feel him lingering, smugly again, in my periphery as I log-on to the internet when a bright yellow bundle catches my eye. He has remembered the not-so-subtle hints I dropped about a fabulous scent I recently encountered during a hens night last week. There on the table, is a very large bag from Jo Malone. And, it is very heavy, clearly containing far more than the 30 ml of Pomegranate Noir Cologne I had hoped for…The deep warm smile returns as he gloats impatiently in his bathrobe. I untie the ribbons to find beautifully fragrant boxes containing body crème, bath oil, a magnificently scented candle, and the previously mentioned cologne.

“You must have made the sales girl’s day.” As I remember his feeble excuses last Saturday – since when does he ever go into the office on a weekend?

I head to work, feeling spoiled, but smelling fabulous.

Amelia takes a call from Silvana – “Audra, there is a big delivery next door. Can you help me carry it over?”

“Sure thing.” Does my naiveté know no limits?

“Hey, Silvana…where’s this big delivery?”

“It’s in the tea room.” (That’s Australian for ‘break room”.)

But the tea room is filled with my colleagues from the Department of Pharmacology, surrounding a gorgeous blackberry cheesecake, all aflame with seven candles…seven? Sure, why not. Again, I am overcome with emotion at being fussed over. I endure the obligatory ‘Birthday Song’ followed by three resounding rounds of ‘Hip, Hip, Hooray,’ and I feel officially indoctrinated into Australian society.

Returning home, I am greeted by a generous bouquet of orchids, thistles, and several other flowers whose taxonomy I could only guess. There is also a box of Lindor chocolates. I glance at Kevin, but he immediately shakes his head in denial. The card attached to the flowers bears a very moving sentiment from my mother; the card on the chocolates, an apology from the delivery company for being a day late. But how did they come to be in my apartment? Ah, the kitchen sink is fixed at last. It must have been the doing of our handyman. But it doesn’t end there! For once, hand written envelopes out number menus for local restaurants in the day's mail delivery. I have not been entirely forgotten though I am a world away from those I love (except, of course for that particular best friend who has NEVER posted me birthday salutations, or salutations of any other kind, for that matter...) My heart is absolutely reeling from all the attention!

Later that evening, after having my favourite Thai restaurant bring me a heaping order of Kaffir Lime Pork, we retired to the balcony with a glass of wine. A fierce storm was brewing all around edges of the city, lightning strikes like dramatic birthday candles in all directions. I counted to 40, and then fell into bed, overstimulated and exhausted.

Saturday, November 24, 2007

The celebrations are still in full swing. Following coffee and meat pies (my Aussie breakfast of choice), we drive the long two hours to the Hunter Valley, a peaceful wine region north of Sydney. Kevin has booked two nights at a luxury resort, complete with a day-long spa package. Once more, a storm rages as we relax into tandem Lomi Lomi massages, the thunder drowning out the gurgling of my stomach. We nap deeply during luxurious pedicures and then head out for dinner. We just missed Brian Ferry at the bar, his concert having been cancelled due to rain – the big pussy! I was never much of a fan anyway. For dinner, I had pork belly with cracklin’. In Mexico, this would be called chicharrones. I used to pay 2 pesos for a bag full bigger (and better) than what came on my elegantly dressed plate for $38AUD. I reckon I was paying for atmosphere…The clouds cleared just in time for rising of the full moon. We do not hit any kangaroos on the way back to the resort, and we sleep soundly to a chorus of horny frogs.

The next day is spent shopping for wine and eating a leisurely lunch overlooking lush green vineyards to the strains of Christmas Carols. And believe me; ‘strain’ is an appropriate word. Songs about Santa Claus are plausible, but as the sun pokes through white puffy clouds and steams the valley floor, songs like White Christmas and Winter Wonderland send me into paroxysms of laughter.



This is going to be a really weird Christmas!

And should supply me with just the edge I need to recover from all this bliss.