Wherein Elgan reminisces about entering middle age.

I successfully purchased a pair of pants today at tcklyrpharsn�s favourite Quebec clothing store. Their sizing system is so insane. I ended up buying a size 2! Tell me, who makes this stuff up? I�m small, but not that small! In Marie-Claire I tried on that black dress I saw on Friday, a size 5 (which is more reasonable, but not really indicative of my actual girth, considering I sew with a size 10 pattern) and it just wasn�t right. Firstly it had a black rosette right under the boobs which I had somehow failed to notice before, connected with black ribbons that did up in a bow at the back. All right, I figured I could always remove the rosette and ribbons. But even in the smaller size it was too roomy in the shoulders and I would have to alter them as I did with the silvery-gray dress I bought last spring at �a clique. Thirdly, it was expensive, and I didn�t want to plunk down lots of money on a dress that I don�t really need (I already have a �little black dress� purchased at that very same shop, thank you) and have to do alterations to boot. So, needless to say, I did not buy it. The saleslady was extremely helpful, though, bringing me lots more black dresses to try on. No thanks, I told her, le moment est pass�.

Tomorrow is harri3tspy�s husband�s 40th birthday, which he wishes to celebrate by downing expensive French wine. I am reminded of my own 40th birthday. Hubby had taken me out to the local Indian restaurant and the teenager from across the street was babysitting our two lovely children, then 10 and 7. My birthday is in January, and the restaurant parking lot was like a skating rink. Our Volvo started to slide onto the road, and only the very quick reflexes and presence of mind of my dearly-beloved husband prevented us from turning into sardines, dead sardines, when a transport tractor-trailer came barreling down on us and the brakes didn�t work. Somehow Hubby got the car turned and into the driveway right next to Shalimar, which just happens to belong to an auto-body shop.

We arrived home, and I noticed many cars parked on our street. I wondered aloud what was going on, and Hubby answered that our neighbours, the doctors, must be having one of their �journal� evenings, when a group of doctors gets together at one of their homes and each tells the others what he or she has read in the medical publications, since it is almost impossible for every doctor to read everything published. However, the cars were parked on our side of the street, not theirs, and I was immediately suspicious. We entered the house, and I was greeted with a livingroom full of people, incuding the doctors from across the street, all of them my friends. It was a wonderful thing. It wasn�t until later that night, when we were already in bed, that the near accident we�d had leaving the restaurant caught up with me and I started to shake.

My husband was very disappointed that I did not make him a surprise party for his 40th birthday. We had just had a federal election that day, it was a Monday, and there were no good restaurants open. My reasoning was thus: At 40, I really didn�t feel much older than 30. I still looked really young and I faced the future with optimism. When I turned 41, however, I noticed the little lines around my eyes, and I felt tired and somehow �older�. That was when I would have liked to have a party. So I did Hubby a favour, and gave him a surprise party for his 41st birthday. Also, he wasn�t expecting it, which made it that much better. We had a nice quiet dinner at home with the kids, sat in the living room drinking wine afterwards listening to some music, when the doorbell rang and one of our friends just �dropped in�. Then the doorbell rang again, and again, and you get the point. Pretty soon a swinging party was in progress. Hubby was pretty surprised.

So I wish Harri3tspy�s husband a happy 40th birthday and a painless entry into middle age.

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