My wife was secretly a bit glad that I had a fairly crappy birthday last Thursday, because she had been planning a surprise party for me on Saturday all along, and if it went well, it would be a nice contrast.
I can now officially say that it was a fabulous weekend, and a great party, and she is the very very best for putting it together for me. Not only for the party, but because I spent all day Saturday shopping for a new electric guitar, and finally found one (I'm writing an advisory article, similar to my digital piano piece from 2003), then had a pedicure at the spa (which I now realize was a way to keep me out of the house).
Even the surprise was extra-surprising. I came home earlier than expected because my spa treatment went quickly, but there was no outward sign of anything unusual at our house. I walked in the front door and heard people in the living room. At first I thought some friends had walked there to drop in for a visit, but within a second or two I realized there were too many voices. I figured out what was going on—and was completely surprised. But I had a few seconds to decide what to do.
I spotted my aunt walking to the living room at the top of the steps, so before she could say anything I rushed up to the edge of the living room and yelled, "SURPRISE!" at the top of my voice.
"AAAGH!" said everyone else, not expecting me for almost half an hour. So I got a surprise, and so did they. That's a surprise party.
Then the next day my wife and youngest daughter and I (our oldest is visiting grandparents in Maple Ridge, an hour east of Vancouver, for a few days) went to see my bandmate Adam Woodall play with his own band at the beach in West Vancouver on a beautiful warm summer night.
Much better indeed.