They Say It's Your Birthday

You say it was last month? Well, okay then.

No-ahhh (my favorite EFY nickname of his. If you get someone 13-year old girls are pining after, what good is it if you don't broadcast it from time to time?) hit the quarter-century mark a few weeks ago and it was a weekend of partying. Well, it was a weekend of fun-we-might-have-done-besides but it made me feel better to talk about it in terms of fun-we're-having-'cuz-you're-getting-older.

First stop - Clark Planetarium's U2 laser show. We have the raddest kid in our ward who works there and got us a few tickets to go check out the U2 show. So check it out we did. And I have always wondered what it might be like to get high to my U2 playlist. I keed, I keed. It really was so awesome, who's going to argue with great tunes and a screen that convinces you you might just need to build a dome on top of your house for all your viewing needs? However, I think the Vertigo track actually gave me vertigo. And I left the theater with renewed conviction that I would make a crappy astronaut.

Next stop - Jambas and a drive up to Ensign Peak to make out. Not :). A drive up to Ensign Peak to watch the city lights ("...the lights from the buildings and cars looked like reflections of the stars that ni-ight.") and make Noah's Top 25 of the Last 25 list. It was good times. And insightful. I recommend it. Rest assured - our wedding date did make the list. It was just behind being kissed by Jennifer S. in 4th grade.

Also notable for the evening - learned how to play Bubble Breaker on the new blackberry. Our lives will never be the same.

Saturday (the actual birthday) - We spent the first half of the day doing big kid stuff ... aka: shopping for lighting fixtures and fans and matching plumbing fixtures to tile samples, etc. Yeah. A barrel of laughs, we are. But then we indulged our little kid selves at the batting cages. I clearly have horrendous batting posture. But I didn't miss once.

That evening we went to the Best of State awards. Perhaps not the ideal way to spend a birthday, but I had a few clients receiving awards and Noah was really supportive. It was a great meal, though (let's be honest, better than I coulda done at home) and there was some pretty excellent entertainment. Namely - the Crescent Super Band. Have you heard these kids? I'm thinking of submitting them to VH1's "you oughtta know." I think it's about time a jazz ensemble from American Fork, UT was featured.

Noah was probably under the impression that by the strike of midnight on Saturday evening the birthday fun was over. And he probably was thinking I'm a pretty lame wife. Muah-ha-ha. What he didn't know was that I had undertaken the pure insanity of arranging little surprise party. A sur-pies party to be exact. I got the idea from my cousin Melissa's blog (shout out) and because Noah is pretty much game for anything in a pastry crust, it was right up his alley. I made homemade pizza (pies) and Noah's "favorite" strawberry pie (or, rather, my loose interpretation of the dish. IT WAS MY FIRST PIE EVER. I didn't say it would be pretty. Or taste good. Whatever.) for dinner and invited a number of friends over. Each of the guests brought a pie along as well and it was a good thing - because frankly, their pies rocked.

Planning a surprise party is stressful times (can I get a "what what" from those of you who have tried?). I even thought I was keeping it simple. But how do you make FOUR pizzas behind someone's back? And what happens if that someone doesn't leave the house when you thought he would? Well, that's when you write a note to his guests on a file folder (only paper I could find without making a scene), shove it up your shirt, make up an excuse about going out to the car and leave the note asking the guests to bake in the heat of the stairwell while you sort things out inside (seriously, sorry everyone). There were so many un-smooth moments on my end, but I'll share just one.

Me: Texting as many guests as I could to tell them to text me when they got here so I'd know when the troops had assembled in the stairwell (sorry, again).

Me: Getting a text back from one of them.

Noah: Who was that text from?

Me: Who... was... that... text, uh, from? (Stalling, brilliant.) Hannah. From work. Needed her to do something tomorrow. (In my mind... and I'm just the type of person who wanted to ruin her Sunday over it.)

But in spite of myself, Noah didn't catch on. He was genuinely confused when poeple rang the doorbell and stood out there with pies. And that made the whole thing worth it.

Pictures are forthcoming. They weren't on my camera. Workin' on it.