So Saturday was my birthday. 42. Lovely day. Up early for pressies with the kids before they were whisked off to Palmerston North for the weekend with my sister, J. (A weekend without kids!) D and I had a leisurely yum cha at Grand Century in Tory Street, Wellington. A wee shop at Moore Wilson's Fresh. A quiet afternoon reading. Five sets of kind friends and family popped in and others phoned. Some lovely pressies. Thoroughly spoilt. And a friend's 40th birthday party in the evening. A fabulous day.
And then there was this.
A surprise birthday present from D. I don't usually share personal stuff on my blog but this touched me. Every year I always know what I am getting from D. Very seldom a surprise. But this year it was. A surprise. I like surprises.
The day before my birthday I made a start on my Fat Little Art Book swaps. I decided that I would use words as my 'art'. Remember the theme is "It's my birthday and I'll party if I want to". For one of the art pages I wrote this:
"For my birthday I do not want a new handbag or a fancy ring or, heaven forbid, a new car. I am not materialistic.
For my birthday I want to sneak away with you to a hotel for the night. Or eat fabulous food. Or get a massage. Or do something. Just sing to me. I am hedonistic."
D didn't see this. But for my birthday he gave me a voucher. For a night in a hotel. And dinner. "To be redeemed with loving life partner." He was worried I might use it for a girls weekend! No need. I wouldn't. I want to share it with him. He knows me. I'll keep him.