Last night my father and I threw a 60th birthday party for my mother that I fear she won't ever forget. Highlights of the evening included, but were not limited to:
1) Her best friends forgetting about the party completely. They went to the beach, and were unreachable by phone.
2) The food being so bad that it was literally inedible. I thought maybe it was just me because I have a sinus infection and my head is so full of crap that I thought my sense of taste had gone haywire; but no, nobody liked anything. Don't ever, ever pair rare seared albacore tuna with green chile relish and fava bean succotash . . . *shudder*.
3) My mother watching me turn steadily paler while the lady to my left, her friend Annette, described in great detail the trauma of having her house infested with rats, including the gruesome manner in which her husband disposed of two of them, and a lengthy description of the feces-related havoc they wreaked in her kitchen. I am extremely squeamish, with a hair-trigger gag reflex. Luckily I had an excuse to get up from the table and leave for a minute, because . . .
4) I spent most of the evening in the bathroom blowing my nose. I don't know why I bothered to be polite, since a guy at the neighboring table had apparently chosen that evening to die in public of tuberculosis or something aurally indistinguishable therefrom.
I believe this entire enterprise qualified as A Depressing Waste of Time and Money. Oh, well. It was the thought that counted . . . at least I hope so.
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Comments: 17
I am inspired. You have thrown down the gauntlet; now I am challenged to write about my wedding. I think I will call it Blessings Through Curses Come.
Hey - I have this scar on my head ...
John -- Sartre must have had the tuna at some point.
Jan H -- Yes, it's all true.
Douglas -- Thank you. I'll be interested to read your story.
As for your poor mother.........that is truly the most horrificly funny birthday-moment. What wonderful material for your wiritng ventures!
One more thing...55 is the new 30, don't you know?
As for the unfortunate with the lung problems...wow!!!!!!!!! That is one for the books. Nothing like phlegm, mucus, sinuses, delinquent friends, geriatrics, and a tapas inspired menu gone wrong.
I feel for you.
For an "I am sorry", take her to Multenomah Falls for brunch next Saturday and get the blueberry pancakes. See the Bridge of the Gods and buy her a nick- nack.
She hates blueberry pancakes, so I'm hoping the sapphire earrings I gave her will suffice :-) Those are blue, too.
But actually, this reminds me more of the way most of my formal extended-family dinners transpire, especially the Swedish Chrismas parties. At first I thought it was a private torment, but once my eyes were opened to films like Fanny and Alexander and The Celebration and the more recent Masjævlar, I've released it's somewhat of a broader cultural phenomenon. Large formal, celebratory dinners invariably end in disaster. You get too many conflicting factors- food, people, generations, potential discussion topics best left untouched, etc. -mixed into the equation, and something's going to set off critical mass sooner or later.
There even seems to be a formula for it somewhere. Stave off the taboo conversation as long as possible while you wait for the one foolhardy/intrepid soul to broach it, because everyone knows they want to but don't want to the responsibility of ruining the affair for everyone. And from there on out, everyone feels free to let loose with misgivings, terribly cookery, scathing comments regarding the latter, and some even succumb to the ravages of the Consumption, as per your experience.
Perhaps you should contract with some morbid Scandinavian filmmaker and have your sad tale brought to life/death on the silver screen. There's money in it!
Carol -- Yeah, I know that's the point . . . she was miserable.
Soren -- How glad I am to know that these horrible things go on worldwide. I have such a pipeline of "just shoot me" moments . . . surely there is profit in them somewhere.
omg. what a party. it can only go up from here. how abt a half-birthday party in 6 mo, to redo the ickiness of this one? cripes. who thought up that menu??