It Begins

I awaken on my 50th birthday to a bright, sunshiny day.  Brilliant blue sky, not a cloud in the sky.  Gorgeous lighting on the mountains, the chaparral, the leaves of our apple orchard.  It’s a perfect day, after a sketchy week, weather-wise.

I start the fire in the woodstove to warm the house.  As my first of 50 New Recipes this year, I make a ‘Giant Mushroom Popover’ from Mollie Katzen’s book Vegetable Heaven.  It turns out so-so.  Nice flavour but gummy texture.  It might be our oven.  It might be the fact we’re at almost 5000 feet elevation.  If I was a baker, I could figure out how to make it better next time.  For now, it doesn’t matter, I tried a New Recipe, which was the point.

Next up:  my First of 50 Frolics.  We load up the packsack with water and head up a nearby trail for a family hike together -- me, my husband Jean-Guy and our two dogs.  One is a three year old yellow Lab whom we fostered and trained as a puppy to be a future Guide Dog.  We adopted him when he was dropped from the program, due to his anxiety in cars. Our second is a rescued Labradoodle -- a comical clown who resembles a Dr. Seuss character.  I should point out that today is also his birthday -- his fourth.  

It’s a glorious day.  Bright blue, cloudless skies. Not too hot, not too cold.  The vistas look like Western movie sets.  We collect huge chips of pure mica from the trail.  We hike to the site of the 10/1 fire -- a fascinating, black moonscape scarring the surrounding chaparral.  As we walk home, we wonder aloud why we don’t do this more often.  It’s a lovely way to spend the morning and it’s so close at hand.  It’s a wonderful, fitting First Frolic for my 50th year.

When we return home, I’m shocked to see it’s already noon.  We take quick showers and Eric makes pasta dough in preparation for our evening dinner.

We pack the car with towels, dog food and toys and race towards Solana Beach.  As we drive, it’s clear our original game plan of lunch at the dog-friendly cafe plus shopping plus time at the dog beach was too ambitious.  I kiss lunch and shopping goodbye, knowing that the Dog Beach Frolic is the most important option for our day.

When we stop for gas in Temecula, I purchase our lunch:  Pringles and Dots to be consumed as we drive.

We go directly to the Dog Beach.  Although it’s a holiday weekend, we find a primo parking spot, no problem.  When I go to buy the parking pass, I’m temporarily stumped by the technology.  Instantly, a man arrives to help me sort things out to successfully purchase the parking pass.

We spend an hour and a half on the dog beach, throwing balls for the boys, walking beside the surf, taking photos.  The waves are perfectly lit in the late afternoon sun.  The boys’ light fur glows.  Their reflections in the wet sand are like mirror images.

We are, all of us, delighted.  A perfect family frolic.  One day:  two of my 50 Frolics.  I couldn’t be more pleased. 

Sandy, damp and content, we drive back to Temecula.  I check my phone messages, expecting at least one birthday greeting.  There are none.  Under normal circumstances, I’d be crushed.  But not today.   I'm thrilled to know that the focus for my 50th is not just today but my Fifty Frolics throughout the year.

When you stop and think about it, it is rather random that we celebrate birthdays, of all things.  It’s not like we had anything to do with it. 

To illustrate my point, consider this foreign custom:  In Hungary, they don’t celebrate birthdays, they celebrate ‘Name Days’.  Everyone who’s named, say, ‘Istvan’, parties on a proscribed day of the calendar.  Those named ‘Erzebet’ celebrate on a different official celebration day.  All the name days are mapped out on an official calendar of some sort.  There are gifts and cards and cake and get-togethers -- all designed to celebrate what someone got named.  Again, it’s not like they had anything to do with their parents’ choice in nomenclature.

Anyway, my point is that our focus on birthdays is just as random as celebrating what we were named or where we lost our first tooth -- we had very little to do with it.

En route back to the farm, we stop for supplies.  As part of my commitment to treat myself to (at least) 50 Treats this year, I buy myself fresh flowers plus the fixin’s for a fave salad:  bocconcini, vine-ripened tomatoes and fresh basil.  The basil comes in a little pot -- it’s still growing so should be a treat for many days to come.

We drive back to the farm. 

We scramble to attend to everything at once:  sorting the boys, making a fire, making fresh pasta, prepping ingredients for Marsala pasta sauce, making marinated and fresh salads, setting the table.

It’s fun evening.  Favourite music plays as we slurp our Gin & Tonics, turn the crank on the pasta machine, roll the dough through to thin it and cut it into fettuccini, then hang it on the pasta drying rack. 

Our meal turns out divine and delicious.  Nothing beats homemade pasta -- or salads made with the freshest of ingredients.

I open a nice bottle of wine to toast the day.  It’s been the best birthday I’ve had in several decades. 

And the celebration of my 50th year is only just begun.

What about you?  How did you spend your 50th?