blissmorgan

So I dressed up. Purple dress, orange wrap, dark red shoes, and a matching set of cubic zirconia jewelry just for a little extra bit of glitterflash in case my purple eyeliner and glittery lavender eyeshadow were not enough. I looked good, y'all. DAMN good.

 

The party was slated for 3pm-11, and man... there was definitely a point late afternoon where SALM and I just kind of sat on the couch and TL;DR'd out. We knew almost nobody there; he actually just came for my sake and for the prospect of good food, because he only kinda sorta met our hostess once in passing. It's been so long since I attended a proper grownup party instead of a kid's part that I had forgotten how long they are, how unstructured.

I constructed some break time for SALM by sending him home (it was not far) to check on the kids, and of course it was at that point that we were all invited out of the house into the chilly, chilly yard for champagne and hors d'oeuvres. It was there that I discovered I very much like a slice of asian pear with a small ball of blue cheese, topped with crushed pecan and drizzled with honey. It was also there that I got tired of holding down a lonely tall table with my elbows, made a beeline for a likely looking pair of gentlemen, announced that boredom was new fun and bluntly claimed them as my two new best friends. And that is how I met L and his husband R, who had flown in from literally the other end of the country, and who had known the hostess longer than pretty much everyone at the party who was not related to her by direct blood. Well chosen, me!

R is quite tall, and took a lovely selfie of us in the afternoon sunlight as it was setting across the lake. I am going to have to ask the hostess to reach out to them for me so I can get a copy of the photo, because I suspect I might actually look rather good in it.

We three proceeded into the tent before being invited or instructed to do so and found it to be warm, which was a fucking delight. Our flesh had time to thaw, and then everyone else came in as well and we found our seats. Much to my delight, we were seated at the same table, along with a young couple from Brooklyn with their toddler who is the cutest little sunuvagun I've seen in ages, and a couple from up in Boston. Once SALM returned from the parenting mission, it was time for shenanigans - the hostess had a series of "stand up if you ever [very specific thing meant to single out certain people]" that were followed by her children handing bead necklaces a la New Orleans to the last folks standing. I came away with no beads, but a good time was most certainly had.

Food was had, and conversation was had, and wine and champagne, and laughs as folks stood up to make speeches and give the hostess some small gifts. We were all handed lyrics sheets and sang a song to/about her set to the tune of This Land Is Your Land, and while my voice is still rough from the illness I have had all week that did not keep me from participating, and with gusto.

After food and conversation SALM made another jaunt home to check on the Spawn, and the rest of us arranged our chairs on the dance floor to enjoy the performance of the musical guest, Susan Werner. I fancy that I am falling madly into fandom over her - her music is a fucking delight. Too, she used the word "specious", which made L put his hand on my shoulder and mutter about how much he adores folks who enjoy words, at which point I revealed my Masters of English nerdity. I need to remember to give a podcast called The Allusionist a listen, on his recommendation.

Unfortunately, I only actually got to hear three of Werner's songs, because just as she was beginning the fourth SALM skidded to a halt on his knees beside me to tell me that he'd gotten home to discover Youngest Spawn migraining; apparently the boy had been attempting to call me and, fool that I was, I'd left my phone on the dinner table when we moved for the concert.

We vanished like ninjas. We hit CVS for medicine on the way home. The lad is now, having been medicated and thrown up and finally tucked in, sound asleep on the couch, where he will sleep off the badness. I changed out of my party clothes, and am trying to balance the feel of having done the right and good parenting thing with the disappointment of having had to abruptly cut short a really delightful evening that I'd been looking forward to for quite some time.

I will mourn just a little for what could have been, and enjoy the memory of what was - and the music of Susan Werner.