we had a big old ho-down last night in honor of Caroline's 30th (butter-creamed chin on the right) and Kimmie's 48th (on the left, with the strawberry filling on her forehead and up her nose). It was a surprise party and we started out with about 22 guests but per usual, all our men crapped out (went into the house "to watch basketball" translation: "I have had waaaay too much to drink and I need to go sit and stare," etc.) so we girls were the last ones standing. At which point the gloves came off: profuse and liberal use of profanity, consumption of tobacco products, alcohol abuse, cake fight. It was the best. Hard to believe we are all (now) over the age of 30 and some of the wild women I hang with are well past 60. But no matter, we like to cut loose, and as they say, you have to go with your strengths, you know--do what you do well.
The evening was cool and breezy and clouds were dashing around overhead so we stayed outside and sat around under the Chinese lanterns and tiki torches and listened to Caroline sing as her brother, Jay, the only remaining brave male, strummed his guitar.
Caroline's husband had stoked up the fire pit before he beat feet for the house, muttering something about how "the gin finally kicked in," so we reclined in Adirondack chairs we'd dragged into a ragged circle around the flames. And sipped frozen margaritas and looked at the stars. Heaven.
I asked Jay to play a Dylan song and he smiled sweetly at me and without missing a beat (or a chord) slid right into the lyrics of my fav Dylan tune:
"They sat together in the park, as the evening sky grew dark, She looked at him and he felt a spark tingle to his bones. 'Twas then he felt alone and wished that he'd gone straight. And watched out for a simple twist of fate..."
How'd he know? Sigh.
