|what, aren't you SUPPOSED to put the gift wrap on your head after?|
Welp, I have turned 60, a three-day gala.
Thursday, the actual day, I met my girlfriends Christine and Hilary down in Little Tokyo. Here, we took in the origami exhibit at the Japanese American Museum, had dinner at The Spice Table, and generally cackled away the eve.
|orgami shoes, anyone?|
|60 is the new 10!|
|Christine, c., Hilary, r.|
No flies on these gals.
Christine and I came home, nibbled on Sicilian olives, French feta and Armenian flatbread crackers, and discussed interior design, books, Palm Springs (where Christine lives: I've house-sat for her, too), men, and each and every one of our friends for the remainder of the evening.
Saturday morning Christine and I felt quite smug. The party, a potluck, was scheduled to start at 3. We'd prepped, cleaned, set out flowers, planned outside seating arrangements, made our respective salads. Our four big racks of spareribs, our chicken thighs, our chicken breasts, our exotic juices, and our sparkling water chilled smugly in the fridge. I prayed, did my nails, sipped coffee and looked forward to Robert arriving at 1. Robert is my friend who'd been slotted to preside over the grill. "It'll be great to have a guy here to help move tables and haul ice," Christine and I assured each other a number of times. "There's just something about a guy by the grill that makes everyone breathe easier."
Around 9 I got a call from Robert saying he had a cold and couldn't come.
Here I must pay homage to the very brave and resourceful Christine who, in a black-and-white mini dress and kitten heels, proceeded to single-handedly grill all the ribs before our friend Joe arrived with a large container of his famous barbecued salmon. I thrust the tongs and a pan of poultry at the poor man, and he proceeded to produce several plates full of perfectly-cooked chicken.
People drifted in bearing insanely great dishes, the food and conversation flowed, the house was beyond beautiful, the spirit was of love, and what can I say? I have the best friends in the world.
|Erin K. Smith (soon to be the proprietor of a pop-up Tarot-reading truck)|
and the ever-stylish Hilary
|Patrick and Joan|
|roses from my friend Phillip, and|
from Father Terry
|gift kit from my friend Glenn: cause you want to be AWAKE|
while you go through the dark night...
|unbelievably great catalogue of the painter William Congdon|
from my friend Rita
|I put this bracelet, made by jewelry designer Hilary Beane, on my wish list a few months ago.|
Hilary and Christine gave it to me AS A GIFT
|luxe bath products from Maud|
the one and only Maudie also made the chocolate birthday cake
she turned 60 on June 28 and we have celebrated together now for many years
party photos courtesty, btw, of another great friend, Terry K. Carr
Though before leaving July 19 for another year, I must say that, just as left to my own devices, I'd eat dry rusks and tap water; left to my own devices, I'd also stay in my room, tell no-one of my birthday, and "celebrate," if at all, alone.
All social outreach is always a stretch, for me, and I know for my friends. But one more time I'm reminded, look what happens when we step out!
|blowing out the candles in clown pants|
thank you, seriously, for the best birthday ever xxx