Party Party Party
Last night was a friend's 50th birthday party, and we actually went. TO A GROWNUP PARTY! And not just a grownup party in that grownups were there and alcoholic beverages were consumed (though not by us); it was a tres grownup milieu. Art studio, nice furniture, music videos projected against the wall. Cool.
The birthday girl is unpretentious, brings out the best in people, and earns love and adoration wherever she goes, sprinkling stardust, magic and unforgettable images in her wake.
I had the opportunity to hula hoop during the party, by special request. Once upon a time, before the last baby and a bulge or two, I managed a slow motion hula hooping grind at a party and have never managed to quite reproduce this feat. But I tried. I did achieve continuous motion, but not that magic I was aiming for. Maybe at my own 50th birthday party.
They played Missionary Man by the Eurythmics, our favorite song. Our song, actually, as my spouse first spied me dancing on a platform at Tugs Belltown to that song, and things started rolling as a result. It was a good night.
On tape: Look to the Lady
On the easel: Blue the Weimaraner
On the laptop: How to Choose a Sperm Donor
On the art table: new labels for my paintings at Urban Fauna
On my mind: Choosing no Nanowrimo this next month, maybe making my own wrimo come February. Getting back to the easel. Hoping for a miracle. Loving my kids.