We are just a couple of old farts now, aren't we? We moved slowly this morning, as usual. Once I got a little bit of flexibility in my joints, from being out of bed and moving, and drank enough coffee to lubricate my brain, I suggested that I'd provide some sort of birthday breakfast to the old man. I had ingredients for plain cheese omelets (no veggies to make them interesting), or I could make gluten-free berry muffins. But since it was his birthday, I threw in a curveball. We could go to Le Peep, so he could get real glutenous waffles. He made his choice thusly: "Waffles. I have to pee anyway." Excuse me? How do theses things go together? Truly, there was a glimmer of logic there. He had to get out of his chair, thus it was just as much effort to get dressed and go let someone cook for us as it was for him to go to the bathroom and then sit back down to wait for me to cook for an hour (assuming I made muffins). I was just as happy to let someone else do the work. We even got rainbow sprinkles on the hot chocolates we ordered for brunch, so it was almost like getting a cake too.
We had planned on having a house full of people tonight. I planned a moderately elaborate meal to feed everyone (as I do nearly every week when we have game nights here), and I was setting everything out on the counter to start when I found out that plans had changed. A third of our group canceled, and it was enough to postpone everything for a week. Yet there I was, with all the fixings for mango chicken ready to go. We swapped out the game, but I went forward with what I thought was going to be birthday dinner. It was until the man decided he was going to be out driving more than an hour longer than we expected him to. We ate his dinner while it was still sort of warm, and saved him some. We played card games while we waited. And as the time ticked past, we wondered whether the birthday boy was ever coming back. Once he finally got back, we had less than an hour before everything broke up. Everyone had to work tomorrow, and we were all ready to call it a night and head to bed.
Now that I reflect on it, there have been lots of birthdays for him that end on him or everyone getting tired and giving up early. I can recall trying to take him out on his 21st for his first legal purchase of alcohol with dinner, and he practically fell asleep at the table (he was working a night shift at the time). Another year, I took him to a David Byrne/Philip Glass performance, and he fully zonked out at the theater on the CU campus. Two years ago, I was in the hospital on his birthday, as I was the year before that. At least in 2015 I got to come home that day, but I was on heavy duty narcotics, and slept the entire day. So much for me celebrating with him. He has always tried to downplay his special day, like it doesn't mean much to him. I just don't get that mindset, but I can't seem to deny he lets these particular days go by with few ruffled feathers. Does he not like being reminded he's getting older, or does he really not care? After all of these years, I just can't tell.
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