Forever 39

Today is my birthday. Like the old vaudevillian Jack Benny, who never admitted being older than 39, I've stopped counting.

People who know me best, know that my cake will be chocolate, but I couldn't resist posting this photo of a Cherbluble.

It is pie, baked inside of a cake. Actually, it's three pies, cherry, apple, and blueberry, baked in red, white, and blue cake layers. This indulgence only sounds appropriate after a dinner of Turducken, another over-the-top gastronomic creation. Think I'll stick with my chocolate cake.

On one of my birthdays several years ago, my son sent me this poem, author unknown:

“Count your garden by the flowers,
Never by the leaves that fall;
Count your days by golden hours
Don’t remember clouds at all.
Count the night by stars, not shadows.
Count your life with smiles, not tears.
And with joy on this, your birthday,
Count your age by friends, not years.”

I have received cards, calls, messages, and notes from Korea, Japan, Spain, Italy, Chile, Canada, and from sea to shining sea. In friendships, I am "old" and very, very rich.

But I'm still only admitting to 39!

~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com

The Besties

Today is my good friend's birthday. We were born three days apart, a long darned time ago.

When we were five years old, we started kindergarten together and we remained in the same class all the way through high school. Afterward, though our paths diverged and went separate ways, we have always stayed in contact and remained friends.

I seldom see him in person because we are so far away from each other, but each time we catch up, it's like no time has passed at all.

On this occasion of his birthday, I'd like to ask him, "If you could write a note to your younger self, what would you say in only two words?"

Would you say, "Have fun" or "Enjoy everything"? Maybe you would be more somber and remind yoursel to "Save money" or "Forgive yourself" or "Forget yesterday." Maybe you would simply say, "Be happy."

An old joke says that men are happier than women. Why? Because they can be President of the US, but they can never be pregnant. Because car mechanics will tell them the truth. Because wrinkles add character. Because people will never stare at their chests when talking to them. Because their phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat. Because a five-day vacation requires only a small carry on bag. Because they can open all their own jars. Because the same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades. And because they only have to shave the neck and above, and they have freedom of choice about growing a mustache.

As Andrea Reiser, author of the article, "47 Things I've Learned in my 40's" says,

It's awesome to collect people throughout life, but you're truly blessed if you have a handful of besties who will always, always have your back. Even if you don't speak to them all that often, you know they're there.

I am truly blessed and you're one of besties, buddy. I wish you a very happy birthday.

~~Sally Rose
Author of Penny Possible & A Million Sticky Kisses
iamsallyrose.com

'Tis the season

'Tis the season, so I was invited to a Christmas party last Saturday night. The invitation was for 6:00pm.

After living in Chile for almost four years, I sometimes forget that, in the US, it's not okay to arrive at a dinner or a party really, really late. I was only running slightly late, about twenty minutes, but when I arrived, the party was in full swing. There were other stragglers who arrived after I had, but the majority of the guests had arrived on time.

Everyone brought a dish to share and the hosts had prepared food, too. The tables were groaning, heavy with ham, turkey, enchiladas, posole, vegetables, desserts. You name it, we had it.

Many of us did not already know each other. We got acquainted while nibbling appetizers. Then, around quarter to seven, one of the hosts announced that it was time to eat dinner. People began filling plates and finding places to sit where they could balance them on their knees.

About half an hour later, I began to notice something, an exodus. People who had finished eating started to leave the party. By 7:30, half the guests were out the door and, by eight o'clock when I left, there were only a few diehards still there. I was home by 8:30.

I had fun at the party, but when I told this story to my Spanish teacher Vivi, she was incredulous. ¿A las seis? Her eyes went wide when I told her the party had started at 6:00pm. They began to roll around when I told her that I was home by 8:30. I could read her thoughts. ¡Que fome!

First of all, in Chile, a party like this would never have started until at least 8:00, more likely 9:00 or 10:00. And even then, most people wouldn't have shown up for another hour or so. They would not be ready to leave after only an hour and a half either. In fact, after an hour and a half, they might not have eaten yet and, even if they had, they would still linger long into the night.

After a Chilean party, the host might find their bed at 2:00 or 3:00 or 4:00am. Time well spent with people whom they had probably seen the week before.

Don't ask which is my preference. With friends, all parties are fun, but if I had my druthers, I'd probably split the difference and have three- or four-hour parties. I wonder which country in the world does that.

*DISLIKE*

I have a young Chilean acquaintance whom I don't really know very well. Having mutual friends, we sometimes socialize in the same circles and I run into him from time to time.

When I found out, thanks to Facebook, that he was having a birthday, I sent him a congratulatory greeting. He responded with hearty thanks and then asked, "Are you coming (to the party today)?"

I played dumb. "What party?"

"The party, my birthday party." Oops, this was inconvenient because I hadn't been invited to his birthday party.

"Ummm, I don't know anything about your birthday party."

He apologized profusely. Twice. I wasn't particularly surprised that I hadn't been invited. After all, we are only acquaintances, not old friends, but he seemed genuinely sad that I'd been overlooked. If he were that regretful, I wondered why he didn't offer me a last-minute invitation.

Staring at my computer, I kept thinking that he would simply invite me then, but he never did. He just kept repeating how sorry he was.

Puzzled, I consulted our mutual friends. They told me that the party was about to start and was being held outside of Santiago in a little town an hour or so away. I understood then why there was no spur of the moment invite.

Now I'll bet that, if I run into this young man at another event, he will be stand-offish and awkward around me. Not just at one party, but......forever!

Why? Because the one thing that Chileans absolutely cannot bear is feeling embarrassed. Even though I am not angry or upset with him, he will probably be embarrassed by it and verguenza, más que nada, is insupportable for a Chilean.

*DISLIKE*