At long, long last, my birthday party!

We’d decided that, although what I wanted more than anything else was for Styx to play at my party, to make that happen we’d have to sell the house. So Ken arranged to have Forever Twelve play! (This was why we had the party at a hall rather than at home.) They played two sets, including a rousing “Happy Birthday” for me, and two snippets of Styx songs that had my head whipping around in true Pavlov’s Bimbo fashion. (Apparently every time my name comes up at the studio, Steve, the keyboardist plays the intro to “Come Sail Away.” I’m afraid to ask why my name comes up at the studio often enough that I have a leit motif.) Anyway, they were awesome. They should play live more. A lot more. E-mail them and tell them.

Morgana did a stunning job at decorations, despite my deliberate lack of input.

“I want purple and silver. Or purple and white.” (My heraldic colors, but purple is my favorite color anyway.)
“But do you want—”
“Purple and silver. I trust your decorating judgment.”
“But what about—”
“Purple and silver. Oh, I bought a helium tank for balloons, but it comes with an assortment, so you’ll have to get purple and silver balloons.”
“Okay, and—”
“Don’t worry. I trust you. Just don’t spend so much we have to re-mortgage the house.”

So she got purple and silver balloons and tablecloths and hats and noisemakers and flowers. Ken ordered custom M&Ms in various shades of purple that said “Dayle’s 40th Birthday”, Morgana then dragged everything back to the house for the smaller after-party, and tucked the purple flowers next to the candles lining the staircase, and it’s so pretty that I’ve left them there. The balloons took on a life of their own and wandered around the house as we watched, which was all manner of creepy. I have no idea what happened to them all. Either they ate somebody and took on their form, or someone disposed of them in the night. Be afraid…

There was food. Oh, but there was food. Not all of our friends like to cook, but they all know how to contribute to a potluck! I asked one of the ones who does cook if he’d make one of his legendary chocolate cheesecakes as my present, and he upped the challenge and made two. That was on top of birthday cake, too. (I brought home an entire cheesecake and ate it for two weeks, because it was just too rich to eat in large doses. And that included sharing it with others!)

Apparently the unspoken theme of the day was “watching,” because I received a slew of DVDs and videos: Serenity, Mirrormask, Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (with a bonus feature of fake deleted scenes!), Hedwig and the Angry Inch, Streets of Fire (I love this totally cheesy movie, I truly do), the original Battlestar Galactica movie (you know, when Starbuck was a guy!), and the BBC production of The Chronicles of Narnia. I have a wonderful abundance of things to watch while Ken’s away.

I also got a set of wooden nesting boxes, framboise and dark chocolate cups from which to drink it (that will be a fun party in itself!), a gorgeous piece of stained glass, specialty British cheeses, Lord of the Rings Monopoly, a subscription to More magazine, a nice bottle of wine, and a stunning silver necklace-and-earrings set.

But the ultimate present must get a special mention here, because it was just so overwhelming and amazing.

See, two weeks before I’d had some folks over after fighter practice for chili and gaming, and naturally the conversation turned to hidden passageways and buried treasure and whatnot. As you do. I remarked that I was crushed early on to realize that there were no secret passageways in the house in which I grew up (destroying many a Nancy Drew-esque fantasy), because my parents had had the house built, and sadly I knew they didn’t have the imagination to build in a secret passageway or hidden room. I did harbor the belief that there might be hidden treasure down by the lake, spurred on by a rock shaped like half an arrow and some mysterious graffiti carved into other rocks. Never did find that treasure, but boy, I looked. I know I’ve told this story before, but this was, apparently, the first time Lynn and Bill had heard that particular ramble.

Note to self: Always watch what you say around Lynn and Bill, for they are delightfully creative and utterly insane.

So at the hall where my party was held, I found…a shovel. With some keys wrapped around the handle, securing a weathered piece of paper, on which there was a poem. A riddle in rhyme, actually.

Well, it turned out I was supposed to wait ‘til I got home for this one, so I set it aside (still puzzled and very intrigued!) and opened all my other wonderful presents. After we were tossed out from the hall, we gathered up the partiest of party-goers and swooped them off to our house.

And there I was with that damn shovel and weird riddle.

Turns out it pointed me to the backyard, whereupon we all trooped out into the night. Lo! There was a rock in the middle of the yard, carved with the initials WR, for Wicked Red, my pirate persona. And it pointed to a dark corner… And look there! Another rock, clearly carved with an X to mark the spot. Now, Lynn and Bill had taken pity on me and my ailing back, and had decided against actually burying the treasure chest, so the rock just sat atop it. But hey! Holy crap on a stick! There’s buried treasure in my back yard! ;-)

Let me mention here that they handmade the chest, right down to the WR brass plaque. That in itself was enough of a wonderful present, right?

Wrong, apparently.

The chest was hauled into the house, I used those handy keys to open in, and am still to this day astounded at all the things I found inside.

Coins from everywhere, including Chinese knife money. A nautical chart of the area (so Wicked Red doesn’t get lost, y’know. It gets foggy.) A handmade and decorated leather book (for Wicked Red to write her memoirs in). Silk trim and cord. A Wanted poster. (Hey…hey!) Rum (of course!). A pistol (to be avoided when one has been drinking rum…). Baubles and beads and necklaces and rings. A stunning sextant and compass. Keys. Shackles (hee). A picture of my favorite cabin boy (gee, who could that be? ;-P ).

Look me straight in the eye and tell me these people are not insane and wonderful. Insanely wonderful. Wonderfully insane.

Much time was spent pawing through the loot and oohing and ahhing, after which there was more cake and a fair amount of alcohol and the wandering of balloons and the telling of silly tales and at least one tour of the house and I really don’t know what else. Hey, it was my birthday—not my job to remember my birthday. ;-)

Our photos are here

Lynn and Bill’s pictures of the box and booty are here