I recently turned 50 and my "friends" made sure I started celebrating early. For the past 15 years or more we have been surprising each other with 40th birthdays and now on to 50th celebrations. We upped the ante for the 50th's and "kidnapped" each other, taking the birthday girl to exotic locales like San Francisco, Canmore, Lloydminster (that's a whole other post) and back to Canmore for mine. My birthday was June 30th, but I got kidnapped for the long weekend in May. After the 40th they sprung on me you would think I would be a lot more suspecting. Apparently not. I did have a twinge of doubt back in February when a friend booked me for the Thursday before the long weekend but she quickly made me feel guilty for being suspicious and I threw that thought out of my mind. So there I was completely surprised when I walked into the Hotel MacDonald lounge to see my group of friends already enjoying a cocktail and I knew the party was just beginning.
Out came a costume for me to wear - a wonderfully green leprechaun outfit. Why this costume? Because I had always wanted to do a walking trip in Ireland. They wanted me to believe that we would be heading to the airport the next day to do just that. They didn't confiscate my cell phone so I was able to make an emergency call to my husband while in the toilet stall and find out if my passport was still at home. It was and so I could relax knowing that I wasn't going on an impromptu trip to Ireland.
I learned from all our other surprise birthday parties that I had a part in planning and enjoying to go with the flow. Do whatever they tell you and put a smile on your face. It takes the "starch" right out of them and really, you don't want to miss out on a great party.
After making a pit stop at the airport the next morning so they could try and make me believe we were going to Ireland, we headed to Canmore for a fun-filled weekend with costume changes and challenges for me. Friday I was dressed in my dirndl with a blond braided wig and a viking helmut to complete the outfit. I was paraded around town as we grocery-shopped and picked up the "spirits" for the festivities. My highlight were the Girl Guides at the local Sobey's who asked if I had come in a time machine. Too cute!
I was a good sport (too good apparently, my friends wanted to see me "sweat" a little bit) and I aced all the challenges. We all had our laughs along the way. The best laughs (at me) happened when I did the fitness challenge at the outdoor gym in the park while wearing my dirndl. I used the piece of equipment backwards (what happens when you have a time-limit for your event!) and ended up flat on my back while "friends" laughed and took photos BEFORE coming to my aid.
Our last evening and last costume change is where I learned to be careful about what I tell people and where I want to set the record straight. If my "friends" had been listening to me over the years they would have known that I and my little sister, Peggy, always wanted to be the "maids" of the Fjallkona. Growing up we had been to numerous Islendingadagurinn's (Icelandic Festival) in Gimli, Manitoba, and the Fjallkona (Maid of the Mountain) represented Iceland at the festival. The Fjallkona is a woman who sits on an elevated throne wearing a white gown, green robe with ermine, golden belt, high-crowned headdress and white veil. The maids were two young women dressed in white, usually chosen because they were the nieces of the Fjallkona for that year. Peggy and I always wanted to be those maidens. When our Aunt Dilla was finally selected as Fjallkona in 1994, we were 31 and 29 and even though we may not have been "maidens" in the traditional sense - we still thought we should have been the maids because we were the youngest of Dilla's nieces. Dilla chose differently and selected two grand-nieces for the job. We still feel robbed!
So what happens when your 50th birthday and culture collide - a horrible representation of some unknown cross between a vampire and bride of the dead. Fjallkona NOT! And they missed the mark. I wanted to be a MAID in her pretty white dress, white gloves (they used to wear those when we were small) and white shoes attending the Maid of the Festival. Once again, I feel robbed. I did get an appreciation for the Fjallkona in her green robe with ermine that she wears in the heat of August. At menopausal 50 anything "velvet" and fur is a cruel thing to make someone wear. I don't know how the Fjallkona managed to wear hers in the heat and still look regal. I just look like some scruffy stray.
The moral of this story? Be careful what you say to your friends and if you do tell them something that may come back to haunt you - make sure you send them pictures to illustrate. Don't leave it up to their imagination!
Lastly - enjoy every moment. No matter how far off the mark they are, the fact that you have friends who plan a surprise for months is the greatest gift of all. Friends who know how to have fun, to help you laugh at yourself and to be there to celebrate life are the best friends to have. Thank you to all my friends.
And wait until your 60th's ....click on the audio clip.
http://www.payer.de/kommkulturen/kultur0413.wav
(Be very afraid....)
The real Fjallkona (Maxine Ingalls) and her maids in the 2013 Islendingadagurinn's (Icelandic Festival) Parade.
http://vimeo.com/72593674?utm_source=email&utm_medium=clip-transcode_complete-finished-20120100&utm_campaign=7701&email_id=Y2xpcF90cmFuc2NvZGVkfDM4NjljOGI3MGY3OWY0YmFmYjAwOGU1NTAyZTc3NzNiMjY2fDQ1MTA2Mzl8MTM3NjgzOTU5MQ%3D%3D