And What About the Party?

First off, you have to understand that I was really quite sick on Saturday. The cold was doing its best to sap my will to live but my head and heart were determined to not let it ruin my party. Hello? I'm only going to turn 50 once. I took a nap in the afternoon. That helped. So did donning the superfantastic skirt my mommy made for me.

How do you not feel fabulous in something like this?


She was afraid it would be too poofy. I say, the poofier, the better.

Here's a picture of me and The Spouse after he gave me my beautiful necklace.


He's adorable.



Get a load of all those presents. Sheesh.


There were about 30 people at the party. I have a vague sense of having talked to everyone but can't really remember many of the conversations. I was telling Leroy this yesterday and he said that it was kinda like a wedding...every time you start talking to someone you get distracted by someone else and off you go. It was like that.


It also explains why, aside from the fact that this cold makes everything taste like vinegar, I really didn't have much to drink all night. I'd start a glass of wine, put it down and then have to start all over again. For my part there wasn't any serious drinking until the party was over and JP insisted that we finish all the champagne. Or "champangnya", as he likes to call it. And by then it was too late. Not that I really wanted to start the second 50 years of my life feeling like my head was nailed to a concrete block anyway.


You know what did make me happy? I may not have had deep and meaningful conversations with every guest in attendance but they all mixed and mingled perfectly well. I suppose the best sorts of parties are the ones which don't rely on the hostess. If my getting 'round to everyone was required it would have been a disaster. Pretty much, they didn't need me. It was awesome. I was surrounded by people I loved, friends from long ago with tons of history, newer friends, in-between (chronologically) friends. And they all got on like houses afire.



The party began at The Neighbor's. It was a coolish night but she'd created a bistro-like ambiance on her deck, with little lights and candles and cutouts of the Eiffel Tower. It was charming. People flowed in and out of the house, chatting and eating and drinking and laughing. A lot of laughing. After dinner and the presents, she gave everyone a cinnamon votive candle and we processed, singing the Beatles version of "Happy Birthday", to our house for cake and karaoke.

Here are the procession candles after we got to our place.


This is what they looked like an hour later. The Child had fun dipping her fingers in the wax. Until I made her stop.


Back to the karaoke. We didn't have any. Ree had forgotten the CDs. And she felt absolutely terrible about it. To the point that she almost cried. And this is a woman who never cries. I was finally able to convince her that we didn't need them and it was all fine and besides, we had cake. Poor, sweet thing. She felt like she'd let me down. She totally didn't. And much as I love karaoke, it does have a tendency to separate a party into singers and non. Without it, we all could hang together. It was better that way.


These are the adorable candles The Neighbor found for me. I blew them all out in one go so I'll get my wish.


After the first round of cake the party grew a little smaller as the folks with children in tow departed. The rest of us cranked up the tunes and danced and talked and laughed some more and ate more cake. Some people even stopped using a plate.


JP began to make the argument that the midnight toast should start early because it was midnight where he came from. We managed to hold him off until the proper time, which arrived quickly enough. Everyone gathered in a circle and we drank a toast and I told all of them how blessed I was to be sharing that moment with such fine friends. Really: me=luckiest girl in the world.

Then there was more laughter and craziness until I'm not sure when. JP and I stayed up after everyone left and both The Child and The Spouse had gone to bed. There was champagne to be finished and stories to tell. I love that man.


We'll clean up later.