Well, guys we did it--we survived Operation Surprise Birthday Party.

I had gotten the idea in my head way back in June, that the best way to celebrate my husband's 40th birthday was with a surprise party. The scheming began early in September, when I started laying the foundation for the party, lining up a hall on post at West Point, and looking for a believable beard--someone in the History Dept. who could be my cover story for a party at the Class of 49 Lodge at West Point.

I needed co-conspirators in the History Department at West Point. Good friend Greta Bucher had warned me that a lot of Cliff's colleagues had computer screens facing their office doors, so that if an email happened to be open, someone could walk into their office and notice (not snooping, but just in the general process of walking in and looking for people) what was on the screen. So my initial emails to the department were camouflaged with a page or two of irrelevant stuff, which the poor victim had to scroll through to get to the actual message. Okay, so after a while it did seem like overkill, but, hey. I was just trying to be fun. My favorite decoy piece: a detailed analysis of the survival rate of red-shirt crew members on Star Trek, as related to alien contact, fights breaking out, and Capt. Kirk hooking up with a local babe. Check it out for yourself; statistics were never this fun in school.

So anyway, these poor souls in the History Dept. were inundated by an avalanche of messages from me, looking for volunteers, advice, general conspiracy assistance. It was a little unnerving, really--people were enthusiastic about Cliff's birthday, and the general concept of having a party, but they were really, really into the deception. "I'd like to help with the sneaky part." "I'd be glad to help with the lying.""The more twisted, the better." Remind me not to turn my back on these guys.

As the party drew nearer, my panic level rose. Poor Cliff--he came home one evening to find me ready to explode. I'd been dealing with a party-related setback, which made me cranky, and then my external hard drive died. By the time he got home, I basically did my best Incredible Hulk impression. "Don't make me angry--you wouldn't like me when I'm angry." He backed slowly out of the kitchen... . There were so many little details, like finding a dj, ordering the drinks and goodies, making sure everyone was there in time to yell "surprise." Yikes!

So finally the Big Day arrived. I got up that morning, ready to go to the gym, planning on grocery shopping, cooking, and sneaking party stuff into my car while Cliff took Hannah to ballet. This is when I noticed that my darling husband had let his car inspection sticker expire a month earlier. Which meant he couldn't drive his car that morning, and I'd be trapped at home. So I zipped through the grocery store on the way home from the gym, and while Cliff and Hannah were at ballet and her Mad Science class, I cleaned and cooked like a crazy person. In the afternoon we dropped his car off for a new inspection sticker, he took her to the coffee shop downtown, and I cleaned some more, and tucked a few things in my car. Okay, maybe this was gonna work. The babysitter arrived, and I sneaked out of the house to hide more party stuff in my car. Then my husband says to me: "I figure we should take my car, 'cause it's got a West Point sticker." Okay, Shel, think fast:... "No, I should drive, because I generally don't drink as much at these things." And.... breathe.

We arrived promptly at 8:00, and there were signs of life in the lodge. Sure enough, when we walked in, the guests sang Happy Birthday, and Cliff was... gobsmacked. Fantastic deer-in-the-headlights astonishment on his face. He was surprised! Woo Hoo! The rest, as they say, is history. A great time was had by all. We coaxed a brave, happy few onto the dance floor, and had a great time dancing until what passes for us as the wee hours, getting down to the greatest dance hits of the 70s and 80s and no, not feeling at all like old fogies. Check out the pictures in the photo gallery.

So once again, thank you one and all for your patience and help, for making the trip and taking the time. I really do appreciate it. And if you feel like planning a surprise party sometime, call me. I'd like to help with the sneaky part.