Lost in Translation

I am a year older than I was a couple of days ago, and to celebrate the start of another orbit around the sun, my father and stepmother took Husband and me out for dinner at a local Indian restaurant. We arrived to find the two of them already seated, the table sprinkled with glitter and little tiny "happy birthdays" cut out of blue and red foil, and against one wall, a bouquet of Gerbera daisies (my favorite flower -- take note, for future occasions). My stepmother said that they'd gotten there a little early so they could "set all these things up," but I didn't think much about that because we were all hugging and saying hello and getting settled at our table.

Dinner was excellent, and as we chatted, we passed different dishes around, each with varying degrees of hotness, quenching the fire with white rice and water (Husband commenting that beer would've been better, but the place didn't have a liquor license). At the end, my stepmother inquired of the young waiter our selections for dessert. He said, "We have rice pudding, mango ice cream, and honeyed cantaloupe." The mango ice cream sounded like the perfect follow-up for a spicy meal, and we ordered two dishes to be shared among the four of us.

When we told the waiter, he said, "Okay, but you won't be able to put the candles in the ice cream." And then he left.

Silence. Then my stepmother started chuckling to herself. "Well," she said, "I guess some things get lost in the translation."

Meaning, I guess they don't have too many surprise birthday parties at Indian restaurants, or at least at that one.

And when the waiter came with our ice cream, he handed the package of candles back to my stepmother, and she gave them to me. He was right, they wouldn't really have worked with the ice cream, because the candles were thin and squiggly and then probably would not have not stayed up very well.

They probably would've worked better with one of our appetizers, mashed potatoes and spices coated with chick pea flour and fried, but I guess there probably aren't too many birthday chapatis.

Still, we had fun, and now have a new story to add to the family almanac, which is already bursting at the seams. and so am I, after that meal.

But that's a good thing, because I'm finding that each new orbit has been requiring greater and greater amounts of energy, and as I push toward 50, I'm going to need all the strength I can get.

So pass the chicken vindaloo and get out of my way.