This was the year that brought bounce into the lives of many, the article said.
“James Bond added bounce to films, Simon Templar added bounce to television, the Beatles added bounce to music and the silicone implant added bounce to breasts,” my colleague wrote.
When I saw him recently, I gave him another reason why 1962 was a great year.
It was the year I was born.
Yes, I celebrate my 50th birthday yesterday.
The other half organised a birthday dinner with friends. No surprises there. He knows I don’t like any surprises. He had been telling me what he had planned for the night. But those were red herrings, if I may say so.
He told me he had planned for a karaoke, which he very well know that I will not take part in. “What if everyone wants you to sing?” he asked. “I’ll walk right out of my own birthday dinner,” I told him.
He rambled on about many other things he had planned for the night. I told him, “If you’re trying to get me not to go to my own birthday party, you will likely succeed.”
He got everyone excited and had taken very opportunity he got to remind me and those in our circle of my birthday.
The past few days, too, I have been thinking of the people and the things I'm grateful for.
Of course, the list starts with my spongebob and cookie monster (and nightcrawler, a character in X-Men, that befits him to a T), who has heard me rant and rave about anything and everything the 12-odd years that I’ve known him.
He shared my ups and downs and gets more upset than I am at times when things don’t go my way.
Thank you for being a good listener; for being you, for being there for me.
Through him, I got to know the Shamsuddin family, especially the brothers, Arabee, Lokman and Basir, who is no longer with us but remains in our hearts always, and of course, their lovely wives, spouses, Nurul and Jani. To the other brothers and sisters and their respective families, thank you for embracing me into your circle.
To Helen, thank you for flying all the way from Sarawak to be here. On those crazy days, I would call you Susan, I don’t know why. I miss those times where we would hang out at Chinoz on the Park (hence the name of this blog originally) and watch those Mat Sallehs walk by. Remember that guy with the pan-Asian looking kid? We had wondered if he was a single dad, didn't we? We never saw any woman around him.
Oh, you know what you should have done? Drop your calling card at the guy's table with a note, Surprise Me!, on the back. Worth trying to see if he would call the number.
Hohohoho … so, Fahmi, did the girl call you after you dropped the card on her table? (Dani, this was before you guys got married). We would also hang out at KLCC together, especially Starbucks or Dome.
Do you remember the time you and Helen “stalked” me when I went to see this guy I got to know through the Internet? It is indeed a small world as the guy used to live next door to my auntie at the Customs Village in Johor Baru. Yes, I still keep in touch with him until today.
The first time I saw Fahmi was some eight to 10 years ago. I thought he looked like Awie, only a darker version of the rocker.
You and Dani are like the siblings I never had. I love you both very much.
To DTPJ and Sheikh Nafiq, we’ve only known each other for about five years now, first virtually through blogging and facebooking, and now in real life but it does feel that I’ve known you for ages.
You two have provided us with fresh perspectives of the world of local politics. May you succeed in your undertakings as politicians and serving God, King and Country.
Well, some people have come to dread the number ‘50’ but I’ve embraced it without any fear or anxiety. In fact, I should say BRING IT ON!
And in the end, it's not the years in your life that count. It's the life in your years. ~ Abraham Lincoln