It is a commonly-acknowledged fact that all the cool kids have birthdays during the summer. Since Jason and I hang with all the cool kids and are super cool ourselves, this time of the year is a little hectic for us but we usually manage to celebrate successfully.
Jason, being a particularly amazing sort of husband, always makes my birthdays more fun than a barrel of manatees. This year, he planned three or four consecutive days of birthday bashing. My pre-birthday activities included a hike to the Lower Falls in Bells Canyon, a spot we had never been before. Although this canyon claims hikers’ lives every year, besides one particularly grueling hill and some wickedly-slick and tilted rocks around the waterfall, it seemed fairly typical to us.
Bells Canyon is just beyond Salt Lake Valley’s mass of civilization.
On my actual birthday, I received “Birthday Breakfast by Jason,” which consisted of French toast panini with grilled bananas that Jason burned just enough to set our smoke alarms off a couple times. He also decorated our kitchen and surprised me with flowers. He did not burn the flowers.
Deaths occur regularly at the falls in Bells Canyon due to slippery stones and rock chutes. So, I sacrificed getting a better picture for staying alive.
During the afternoon, we consumed Indian food and gobbled shaved ice at Bahama Buck’s. This was followed by dinner at my sister’s, after a quick but cooling break at Tibble Fork Reservoir.
Tibble Fork Reservoir is a little too popular for my own good. Finding a quiet place in its shade required some meandering.
We decided to keep gatherings with friends kind of low-keyed this year. So, Jason arranged for a laidback evening of waffles, barbecue, and breakouts for my party. We charmed our way out of a Harry-Potter-themed room at Alcatraz Escape Games with a small collection of our chums. I got to cast a spell; it was awesome!
Have you seen these wizards?
School assignments and trips made coordinating Jason’s birthday offerings a bit difficult for me. I actually had to wrap his presents on his birthday! Nooooooooooo! I avoid last-minute devising more than chard-flavored goat milk but my rushed preparations still provided pretty good results. I cooked Jason cinnamon waffles with a cinnamon cream sauce and a dash of the dark side for breakfast using our Darth Vader waffle iron. We saw Spiderman: Homecoming in the afternoon, which turned out to be our favorite Spiderman film yet, and finished the evening with a meal at Bombay House with my family.
I’ve golfed just enough to almost look like I know what I’m doing.
Since I can never get enough of my fine man, the next day I took Jason out to dinner at Log Haven, one of our favorite spots to feast in the summer. You can’t go wrong with fine food, a fine man, and fresh mountain air.
I don’t know if our swings were good enough for Topgolf. Is there a Middlegolf?
I also arranged for a compact group of friends to join us for a get together at Topgolf in honor of Jason. The driving games and grub were supplied by me and the entertainment was supplied by… everyone. It was a raucous and amusing evening.
Happy birthday to us… and all you other cool summer kids.
These days, you may be as likely to find Jason and me in period attire than in jeans and t-shirts. Somehow, our antiquated appearances seem to be escalating. In June, we attended and assisted with the Edwardian Ball hosted by Old Glory Vintage Dancers.
Jason was the bee’s knees in his linen suit.
We demonstrated dances and guided unsure steppers while dressed in beaded couture and fine white linens. It was an enchanting evening reeling with rock steps and crossover turns.
In the 1920s, women abandoned corsets. Thank goodness!
Incidentally, Jason always looks hotsy-totsy in his 20s menswear. Anytime he wants to skip the t-shirt and go straight for the tweed that’s fine with me.
What could be better than spreading blankets near a chattering brook and genteelly consuming refined fare with distinguished friends? Why yes, wearing fashionable waistcoats and taking pony rides through tree-lined lanes would make such an occasion even finer.
The company was most agreeable at our moveable feast.
Pedestrianism, or competitive walking, was a sport in Regency times. We held a manly walking contest at the picnic. Jason’s snobby strides won.
Last month, we attended Visions of History’s Regency Picnic at Memory Grove in Salt Lake City. This affair gave us a chance to daintily partake of charcuterie, cheese, and fruit with some of our historic companions while the hum of harp and stream gently aided our digestion. It also afforded opportunities to amuse ourselves with the prettiest equipage.
This pony deserves his nickname, “The Red Rocket.” He never seemed to tire no matter how many of us he lugged around.
The distant skyscrapers belied the historical fiction fashioned by our frocks and cravats.
A miniature carriage and steed lend great distinction to an occasion.
It was an elegant and pleasing event. Thank you, Visions of History, for planning such a pleasant outing.
I was pleased to be invited to Visions of History’s Ladies Victorian Tea at The Grand America last month.
I was fully prepared for the social and genteel demands of this occasion. With my delicately-netted gloves, stiff taffeta skirt, puffed sleeves, and equally-puffed hair impeccably placed, I gracefully nibbled scones topped with clotted cream and lemon curd, macaroons, and cucumber sandwiches. I sipped tea with a perfectly-popped pinky while carrying on stylish conversations with my companions. Indeed, the tearoom was titivated by my refined presence.
My outfit was appropriately ruffled, puffed, and laced.
The Grand America provided the perfect setting for our elegant affair.
Not convinced of my overpowering poise? Okay, perhaps my charm was not quite sufficient for the fanciness of the affair. I spilled tea on my dress and had to hunch awkwardly a bit to keep from dribbling anything else. With that said, I had a splendid time chatting with my fellow history aficionados and we were the highlight of the memorable atmosphere for many of the ladies and little girls taking tea; we received a number of picture requests from these females.
It was a delightful afternoon spent in the company of fashionable foods, bygone vogues, and cultured companions.
Today, I am graciously giving you males out there some life-altering information and advice. Prepare for your world to be rocked.
My man is hot in a cravat!
Men, to 80% of the women you encounter you will never be hotter than when outfitted in Regency attire, like a Jane Austen character. Why do I feel compelled to give such random priceless wisdom? Well, frankly because you boys are a little dense.
I was tasked with creating flower arrangements for the ball again this year.
Jason and I were among the dance demonstrators at the ball.
Jason and I recently went to the Regency Romance Ball in Salt Lake City again. At this affair, attendees are carried back to the time of Jane Austen by elegant surroundings, tasteful food, period attire, and vintage dancing.
Every year I debate whether to make another outfit for the ball, I only have three after all.
This year, the ball sold out with around 300 attendees. As popular as it was, not everyone that wanted to go was able. You see, I’ve been privy to a lot of female protests over the years regarding the difficulties of securing male companions for this event. And, thus, the importance of my message emerges.
Obviously, a lot of men are wise and I’m sure they reap the rewards of their wisdom.
Jason is clever; he’s never once complained about wearing clothes that look supremely fine on him.
For I can only assume that if you blokes, being self-serving creatures, knew that attending such affairs would not only earn you an uncalculatable amount of brownie points but also elevate you from modern dud to Regency stud that you’d be all too eager to go. Therefore, I must conclude that you are grossly unaware of the facts… or were until a moment ago.
The food at the ball is elegant and tasty, another reason for you men to cease your objecting.
Men, you don’t need to understand Mr. Darcy’s appeal to benefit from it so I hope to see more of you at next year’s ball proudly pirouetting about in waistcoats and cravats while your ladies ogle you. Don’t say I never gave you nothing.