Birthday Stories
Nov. 2024
With fears of being thwarted by another birthday illness. Read on friends; it’s a real thing. The weekend before my big day, I booked a room at a historic hotel built around 1927 located in a quaint little Saskatchewan city called Moose Jaw. For those of you not from around these parts, it’s about an hour and a half south of where I live.
The town has a long mischievous past, with hidden underground tunnels, bootlegging, and business relations with the notorious gangster Al Capone. That’s just scratching the surface on some of its charming character and sordid past.
A close friend of mine joined me for a fast and furious 24 hours in this little metropolis. Please note nothing about this town is fast or furious, except for how my friend and I shop and consume wine.
It was short and sweet, and what it lacked in time spent, we made up for in memory-making moments. Sometimes, a break in the routine and a quick getaway, if only for a day, can be just what a girl needs.
Lately, the prairies have been pummelled with copious amounts of snow and freezing temperatures. Both are not rare for our winters. But they usually don’t hit us this early in the season. So, with that in mind, there’s a common question around these parts-
“Why the fuck do we live here?”
Usually mumbled with lips frozen in mid-sentence. Frosted hair and white frosty lashes while snot runs down your frozen face.
As I wrote this, the temperature was -31. Winter has barged in with a vengeance. It’s the day of my birthday. And in the true tradition of this Scorpio's milestone day, a shit storm of some proportion was expected.
This year, it was a snowstorm that drifted in overnight, delivering a few feet of snow throughout the day. Most of my morning was spent shovelling my way out of our driveway. I had one thing on the calendar, and that was a facial I had booked a month prior, on the other side of town.
The snow was wet and heavy. With a few choice words, digging my way out, I cleared what was needed to break free of my driveway. Out in the storm, I ventured, maneuvering through the snow-piled city streets, traffic understandably at a crawl. Frozen slabs of half-melting snow slid down my windshield, blurring my view. In weather like this, my windshield wipers always freeze up, making them most ineffective. With limited vision and treacherous roads, I decided to avoid the freeway at all costs. Weaving through snow-piled side streets, I eventually made it across town for this facial. Priorities, am I right? The facial was nice, but probably not worth the stress of getting there.
Early evening, in true Northern spirit and despite the snowstorm, I had some dear friends that battled the shit weather, venturing out of their warm cozy homes to meet me at a restaurant for a delicious birthday dinner.
It’s the little things, my loves.
Cheers to a healthy, mostly mishap-free birthday.
This is 55.
Stories of Birthdays Past
2023
There are those people in your life who just hold a special space in your heart. Last year, my husband and I lost one of those people, who also happened to be an Uncle.
It was November, and Uncle Ken (unbeknownst to him) somehow acquired a Meningitis bacteria that had him feeling like shit for a day or two. That night, he went to bed; it ravaged his brain while he slept, and he never woke up.
He was strong, healthy, adventurous, and funny. Some tidbits of his personality. I could go on, but I know that I’d never do him justice. Ken’s practical jokes are legendary, and stories of him and his adventures will be told for generations. Family and friends alike, hearts were broken with such a sudden and unexpected loss.
I’m sick with some kind of chest cold, and staying at the in-laws, in Butt Fuck (Pseudonym) Saskatchewan, for the funeral. The sky was dark and angry. The wind was bitter and cold. Snow had not yet arrived, and everything looked dark and dirty.
I shiver, teeth chattering and achy bones rattling, as my salty tears roll down my wind-battered cheeks. I dig in my coat pocket for more tissues. My chest is heavy with sadness, and it feels like I can’t breathe. My head is congested, and foggy from lack of sleep and near overdose levels of cold medications, just to stay upright.
I wonder if this is how Uncle Ken felt leading up to that fateful night.
We all stood huddled into our loved ones in the graveyard that is no stranger to this family. It stands remote and lonely on the side of a rural dirt road, holding space for its residents. Nestled into a tree bluff amidst the sprawling prairie landscape, we stand as it receives another. The wind whipped at our coats and scarves and rustled our hair, biting at our exposed flesh, ensuring our physical angst paired perfectly with the sadness in our hearts.
This was 54
2019
A few weeks before my birthday, my husband surprised me with a flight and hotel to New York with two girlfriends. I know, crazy, right? I had never been, and I could not believe I was going to New York! It was a quick 3 days in the Big Apple, but we ladies did our best to make the most of it.
Doing all the touristy things - Central Park, 911 memorial, restaurants, shopping, subway adventures, and walking. So much walking.
On our last night, with weary feet and near exhaustion, we stumbled into a cozy little Italian bar for a nightcap. It was small and dimly lit. The wood floors and distressed brick walls added to the old-world ambiance. We were reflecting on all our adventures when a phone call came in. My friend Becca answers her cell phone with an uneasy feeling. Her intuition was on point. She was told her 43-year-old husband had just been taken to the hospital by ambulance; he’d had a heart attack.
As you can imagine, the next 24 hours were a whirlwind of helplessness, disbelief, and angst. We immediately headed back to the hotel. Other friend Jaime got on the phone with the airline, trying to find the quickest flight out for Becca so she could get back to her husband and kids. An alternate flight was found, leaving in the wee hours of the morning. We popped her in an Uber with hugs and tears and sent her on her way. Jaime and I stuck to our scheduled flights, that had us leaving early afternoon the next day.
Good bye New York
Thankfully, Becca’s husband recovered fully. He is also a dear friend of ours, and we are grateful every day for his presence, exceptional husbanding skills, Nateclaw cocktails and BBQ’ing prowess ;)
Fast forward 2 weeks, it’s 5 am, the morning of my birthday. I wake up to my dog In the gagging throws of a pre-vomit. In my barely awake panicked frenzy of trying to usher her onto some flooring that wasn’t carpet, my puking dog and I fumbled into a very large and solid antique mirror leaning against the wall. The mirror tipped forward, and over it went, slamming onto the right side of my body, pinning me back onto my bed.
Barfing pooch escapes my grasp and any harm from the large toppling mirror, emptying the contents of her stomach on the carpet as she runs terrified out the bedroom door and down the hall, regurgitating the entire way.
Excellent.
I’m left bruised and battered and sulking from such a rude awakening on this alleged special day. Feeling Grinchy.
My entire thigh and parts of my arm were black and blue. Everything hurt like a son of a bitch. However, this early morning incident did help divert the discomfort of a raging bronchial infection. In the end, I survived the chest infection, excessive bruising and vomit cleanup. Hello, and high five to fifty, you nasty bitch.
This was 50
Foreword - hoping this all doesn’t sound too sad or pathetic, with undertones of 50 additional reasons why I should pay my therapist more visits. I assure you I am not without some positive vibes through the stories I’ve told today.
Universal lessons are typically delivered unapologetically and with perfect timing. And in the grand scheme of things, life is pretty damn good. Thank you, as always, for joining me in this space for some mishaps and milestones.
With gratitude & cheers, to another trip around the sun.
Xo Tam
If you enjoyed this little read please share it with someone, because that would make my day and hopefully brighten theirs.
Hi there, I’m Tamara Dayle. Born and raised on the Canadian prairies. I am a wife and mom of two grown men and 3 unruly fur turds that rule the roost.
I am also a life photographer, storyteller and writer - Mishaps and Milestones is 100% reader-supported. Thank you for joining me while I write about all the sweet and chaotic moments this life has to offer.
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