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Pretty Much The Same
August 03, 2008

The last week, or as I like to call it Birthday Fest 2008, has been a whirlwind of non-stop activity. Beyond my usual daily grind of wishing I could learn to squeeze a lemon without shooting myself in the eye, and understanding that no matter the fact that I've been wearing them since I was old enough to walk, flip flops are a shoe I will be forever cursing as I am on my way down to the ground. And now that I've blurted out that forever-going sentence I do not have the grammar skills necessary to wind it up with all the appropriate punctuation so I will just keep with the big run-on by saying that - I've been busy being celebrated. A lot. I told my friends that I am so sick of it being all about me that I can't even stand to look at myself in the mirror.


And I've had to answer the same question more times than I can count this week... "So how does it feel?", which is pretty normal, I guess, when a girl turns... 40. And before I answer how it feels I have got to get the answer to my own question, "When the Hell did this happen?" I am pretty sure I just got my license and wore all that heinous taffeta to the prom. And now here I am looking in the mirror thinking, "Hm. So this is 40."

I've really never been one to focus too much on age. It is just a number after all, and I am a big believer in being as old as you feel. And for me there are days I feel 21, and there are days I feel 101. Mentally, however, I can't seem to get past the age of 12. But I've had this mix of, "Congratulations! Life is just getting started!" to the typical, "Oh, wow. I am so sorry. It's not so bad." accompanied with that tilted head sigh.

I dunno, considering I work with a lot of flames and sharp things, the fact that I have all my appendages seems like a huge accomplishment to me. And let's be honest, the fact that I just went down the fire escape without taking a face plant is a huge moment for me. 40 is just a blip on the screen.


It feels the same as it did yesterday. And other people - they feel the same, too.


It was Day 5 of Birthday-Palooza when a group of friends took me out for dinner. We were at a large communal table which had a few seats left on the end. The place was packed and because we were in a festive mood we offered up the free spaces to a couple who would have otherwise had to wait a long time to be seated. And they seemed nice enough at first - willing to raise their glasses in a toast to me - but then as we got distracted with our goings-on they became distracted but being utter asses. I cannot count how many times The Man would raise his hand and snap for his server. The first time he did it I only half noticed it, but then he did it again and I could not help but stare.

I don't understand the Raise and Snap style of dining. They weren't being ignored - their server was quite attentive, actually, to the point of going over board to compensate for having to share a table with my crew. But every single time he wanted something - which was 9 times (I lied earlier - I did count) he would raise his hand and snap his fingers. And, see, unless you are on the floor at the Stock Exchange or simply doing a bad impression of a Flamenco dancer, there is just no reason to raise your hand and snap your fingers unless perhaps you have a death wish and are open to strange things happening to your food. Because in my world a snapping finger says, "Please, someone, drop my steak on the floor and I am totally ok if you slash my tires, too. In fact, here is my credit card. Go ahead and book yourself a nice trip to India."

The Last Snap was a request for coffee. And I happened to catch The Server's eye and I could tell she was seconds away from loading his coffee with Ex-Lax and maybe a little cut glass. But instead she smiled a big smile and said, "Certainly, sir. My pleasure."


We had paid our tab and were getting up to leave when The Man said, "Well have a happy birthday. Any words of wisdom on turning 40?" I paused for a minute, desperately trying to stop my mouth from saying bad things. And then I smiled a big smile and said, "I wouldn't drink that coffee if I were you."


Posted by Foodwhore at August 3, 2008 11:15 AM

...and the look on his face was probably the best birthday present of them all...

Posted by: David at August 3, 2008 12:25 PM

I turned 50 last year and I remember thinking "when the hell did I get old. This was a great read and your comment to the gentleman at the table about the coffee was hilarious. Happy Birthday

Posted by: Amber at August 3, 2008 02:18 PM

But....did he drink the coffee?

Posted by: maggie at August 3, 2008 02:32 PM

My favorite quote: Wisdom arrives with age, although sometimes age arrives alone.

I thought my 40's were the most awesome time of my life. Until I reached my 50's.

Posted by: Gal_from_Mich at August 3, 2008 07:34 PM

Happy Birthday! It only gets better.

Posted by: sue.g at August 4, 2008 05:09 AM

Happy Birthday!

I just found your blog last week....and have been obsessively reading to catch up. I love it! You are my hero....wish I could come up with the right words to say in situations like you do....... :-)

Posted by: Mona at August 4, 2008 06:51 AM

Welcome to 40--I beat you to it about two years ago.

It is pretty good, actually. No one can ever call you a kid again, and treat you like you are stupid just because you are young. People can still be asses to you, of course, as Mr. Snappy proved, but they at least cannot pull that "Oh, honey, you are just so young" bullshit on you again.

And that is nice.

Also, when I have to step out of my kitchen to deal with customers, because I have a few years on me, that combined with the black chef's coat tends to equate to instant respect. And that is nice.

Especially when I have to deal with the ones who are sans shoes, sans pants and sans common sense.

Posted by: Barbara at August 4, 2008 08:36 AM

You showed way too much restraint. Personally, I would have said something along the lines of "You know, you seem like a really cool guy, which is why I'm SURE that you have no idea that you are being incredibly rude." And then explain to him that snapping is not cool -- and could he please manage to sit on his hands for the evening.

Some people really have no clue.

Posted by: eclecticdeb at August 4, 2008 10:02 AM

Happy Birthday dear Whore.
I personally loved turning 40 and 50. It was all about me and the world was as it should be.
But now I am staring down the barrel of 51. Holy crap I am IN my 50's. Me - who is only 29. When did that happen?
BTW, I can't wait until you are an old lady. That gives you licence to really say whatever you want.


Posted by: Pats at August 5, 2008 03:31 AM

I think I would have encouraged my friends to all lift both hands high snapping whenever he did. The picture of a table full of people all snapping, most of them laughing, is just funny to me. And perhaps it might have stopped him by the third or fourth time....perhaps...

Posted by: Becky at August 5, 2008 10:16 AM
 
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