anniversaire
My birthday last Friday passed uneventfully but not unpleasantly. As I had hoped, the kids and I were over the worst of the flu bug; unfortunately, J was the next one down and spent most of the day asleep or using up copious amounts of tissues. While I was feeling better, the strong antibiotics my doctor had prescribed were giving me wonky side effects, like an elevated heart rate and a gurgling tummy, so I didn't feel great anyway. The flu bug had made its way through the entire community here, to the extent that Friday playgroup was cancelled because too many people were sick, so Bao and I just stayed home, watching old Weezer music videos on youtube and baking my birthday cake.
We had cake for tea after The Bun came home from school and J was feeling well enough to go out for dinner that night, so we braved peak hour traffic and went to town for dinner. I had a char kuay tiao craving (damn you Instagram feed!) and so ended up at Jeck's Place (hardy har har), the one and only Singaporean restaurant in Geneva. The kids shared some chicken rice, and we also ordered sambal kangkong, tauhu goreng, and yes, my kuay tiao. Obviously, nothing tasted entirely authentic, but it's been so long since I had stuff like this that everything really hit the spot; I was happy. J knows the restaurant manager and we got a free dessert thrown in. We rolled home stuffed, put the kids to bed, and I spent the rest of the night reading quietly while J had an early night.
J and I have seen each other through seventeen birthdays. In the beginning, we would plan a Day of Mystery for each other, like some funny day trip like to the Bird Park or to Kusu Island. We had no money, but we had imagination and time. As we got older and work commitments piled up, we would celebrate our favourite way: splurging on an indulgent meal, or a hotel staycation, or both. Now we don't even buy presents for each other because there is nothing tangible we could conceivably buy that the other party could not get for themselves. This is not a bad thing, really. With the twin shackles of children and work, the most precious thing to us is time to ourselves. In lieu of an actual present, J's offer to take the kids while I run away to London - again - is much more appreciated than anything he could buy for me. For his birthday this year I have offered the same - a chance to be in Manchester watching his favourite football team play.
I guess people may snigger and make remarks about the death of romance in middle-age. While that stings a little, for the most part I don't really care. We are what we are. J knows me well enough to recognise that he will get his head chewed off if he presumes to give me something like flowers. I'll buy my own flowers, thank you very much. Give me a cardboard printout of a Dilbert cartoon and I'll call that true love.
But I digress. Even though I tell J not to buy me things, it is still lovely to receive small gifts through the mail from friends in Singapore. The best gift came from JL, who bought me a 'mini massager' *ahem* from the Ann Summers shop in London. She remembered that I had wanted to go there to shop but had no time. Best friends always remember the little things. Middle-aged best friends take care of each other. Now that's a gift that keeps on giving.
My other friend S basically arm-twisted me over whatsapp for something that I wanted until I finally told her to get me one of Richard Siken's poetry books. She bought me Crush and I don't dare read more than one poem at a time because I don't want the book to end. So beautiful. I have been committing short stanzas to memory - I wish I could memorise more.
I mean, look at this:
Straight through the heart.
The kids gave me hugs, kisses, a bottle of Coke and a can of Pringles (which is what I told The Bun I wanted), and bickered over who got to blow out the candles on my cake. Business as usual then.
For myself I bought an LJ rename token. I'm going to be changing the username for this journal because I think the present username doesn't make sense to anyone apart from myself and a friend who doesn't even know the journal exists. It's been bugging me for ages. Nothing else changes, though - the system will reroute itself and everything still stands.
Another year, another birthday, another round on the roller coaster.
We had cake for tea after The Bun came home from school and J was feeling well enough to go out for dinner that night, so we braved peak hour traffic and went to town for dinner. I had a char kuay tiao craving (damn you Instagram feed!) and so ended up at Jeck's Place (hardy har har), the one and only Singaporean restaurant in Geneva. The kids shared some chicken rice, and we also ordered sambal kangkong, tauhu goreng, and yes, my kuay tiao. Obviously, nothing tasted entirely authentic, but it's been so long since I had stuff like this that everything really hit the spot; I was happy. J knows the restaurant manager and we got a free dessert thrown in. We rolled home stuffed, put the kids to bed, and I spent the rest of the night reading quietly while J had an early night.
J and I have seen each other through seventeen birthdays. In the beginning, we would plan a Day of Mystery for each other, like some funny day trip like to the Bird Park or to Kusu Island. We had no money, but we had imagination and time. As we got older and work commitments piled up, we would celebrate our favourite way: splurging on an indulgent meal, or a hotel staycation, or both. Now we don't even buy presents for each other because there is nothing tangible we could conceivably buy that the other party could not get for themselves. This is not a bad thing, really. With the twin shackles of children and work, the most precious thing to us is time to ourselves. In lieu of an actual present, J's offer to take the kids while I run away to London - again - is much more appreciated than anything he could buy for me. For his birthday this year I have offered the same - a chance to be in Manchester watching his favourite football team play.
I guess people may snigger and make remarks about the death of romance in middle-age. While that stings a little, for the most part I don't really care. We are what we are. J knows me well enough to recognise that he will get his head chewed off if he presumes to give me something like flowers. I'll buy my own flowers, thank you very much. Give me a cardboard printout of a Dilbert cartoon and I'll call that true love.
But I digress. Even though I tell J not to buy me things, it is still lovely to receive small gifts through the mail from friends in Singapore. The best gift came from JL, who bought me a 'mini massager' *ahem* from the Ann Summers shop in London. She remembered that I had wanted to go there to shop but had no time. Best friends always remember the little things. Middle-aged best friends take care of each other. Now that's a gift that keeps on giving.
My other friend S basically arm-twisted me over whatsapp for something that I wanted until I finally told her to get me one of Richard Siken's poetry books. She bought me Crush and I don't dare read more than one poem at a time because I don't want the book to end. So beautiful. I have been committing short stanzas to memory - I wish I could memorise more.
I mean, look at this:
Straight through the heart.
The kids gave me hugs, kisses, a bottle of Coke and a can of Pringles (which is what I told The Bun I wanted), and bickered over who got to blow out the candles on my cake. Business as usual then.
For myself I bought an LJ rename token. I'm going to be changing the username for this journal because I think the present username doesn't make sense to anyone apart from myself and a friend who doesn't even know the journal exists. It's been bugging me for ages. Nothing else changes, though - the system will reroute itself and everything still stands.
Another year, another birthday, another round on the roller coaster.