Story Weekend: Par-tay!
John and I just threw a launch party for a friend, Dave Samuels, who recently pubbed his first book. Since I’m on a tight deadline, John and Dave’s wife Elizabeth did all the preparations: shopping, setting up the house, everything, while I stayed glued to my computer. I only showed up when the guests starting arriving. Now that’s the way to throw a party! I’m going to remember to have someone else do all the work from now on.
What comes to your mind when you think of the word “party”?
If you’re new to Story Weekend, here’s how it works: I pick a theme and you share something from your life that relates to that theme, however you interpret it. Thanks to all of you who’ve been contributing. As always, there are a few “rules”:
▪ The story must be true
▪ Try to keep it under 100 words. Embrace the challenge! That’s about six or seven lines in the comment form. I want others to read your story, and most people tend to skip if it’s too long. I know how tough it is to “write tight” but I hope you’ll accept this as a challenge.
Have fun!
When I first up sticks and moved to Ireland leaving behind my family and network of close friends to join the love of my life, the only person I knew in this country was my partner. The first year was what all first years are, a series of firsts, a lesson in adaptation where the money was different, the accent sometimes difficult to understand, where everytime I stepped into a shop and asked for something like chips or pop I was stared down like I was a lunatic. Ah it would have been a short journey anyway:} I did have however a network of lovely ladies I had met online before I set sail on my new adventure. We talked daily online and shared our lives, our joys and sorrows with a freedom that can only come from thinking that we all knew no one in common and we would never be in a position to divulge the secrets that we shared. Last year one of those ladies and her girlfriend(15 later may I add) came to Ireland on holiday and we brought them to the house for a meal. 2 hours max I told my man. What would we have to talk about? 8pm morphed into 4am and several bottles of wine later and an ongoing rendition of Diamonds and Rust that we kept trying to sing despite the fact that none of us knew the words to the second verse. For me the signifigance was that this first would never need a second verse. We became as eternal as the words to Joan’s song that feed our youth and shored up the sea of our ever changing future. We are heading to Boston next, to Karens. She has a pool and a hubby who plays a guitar and we will share and sing and snuggle down deep underneath the blanket of friendship that we have been crocheting for years. The holes in the blanket like dream catchers where the bad times slip through and the good times will forever warm our souls. That’s a party to me. No presents wrapped in pretty paper that gets thrown away or forgotten. Just the precious, precious gift of time.
When I think party there are two things that come to mind. First, I’m the oldest of three children and when we were born our parents bought us an insurance policy that would mature when we were ten years old. That’s when we each enjoyed our one and only birthday party while growing up. My grandmother had only two birthday parties during her lifetime, when she became 90 and ten years later at 100. She died 2 months short of her 104th birthday. Of course I’ve enjoyed scads of parties for children and grandchildren. (By the way, my dad cashed those policies in before he died and presented each of us with our respective “cash value.” Mine was just a bit over $300. He had kept it for 50 years.
He asked her to his party & wanted her to bring the painting he commissioned…he would unveil it to all. Without mincing words, she was scared…never a party girl but she knew the painting was important to him. She barely knew him but she waited till 9 p.m. and finally showed up..the painting was inveiled at 10 with applause and she found little to be afraid of…all his friends welcomed her and made her feel at home. “He & She” fell in love that nite and soon after married…all these years later the painting still holds a special place in their hearts and hangs on their special wall.
This was a very quiet …shhh….weekend on the blog. Actually a quiet weekend on the Internet, and I should know, because I’ve been chained to my computer every minute of it with my deadline. But I so enjoyed your three stories, and I’m grateful to you for taking the time to share.
Since it is soo quite, I shall start here and move backward to catch up over the last few weeks:)
I guess I must be the original party-girl, for when I think party I envision good times with family and/or friends; whether it be a intimate porch party for just 2 or 3, a pool party with kids galore, a holiday Epiphany party, a wedding or surprise party w/dancing or my most recent roof top party, it is all good as long as your special loved ones are there enjoying it right along with you:)
Our roof top party overlooked a gazebo housing a live Jimmy Buffet type Parot band down the shore so it was a most festive occasion for just the eight of us dancing over the heads of hundreds! Great vantage point to enjoy the music too!
Today I celebrated my late Mothers 91st birthday. We went out to lunch , our favorite thing to do together. We sat outside on the patio with the Arkansas river flowing peacefully by. The wind blew gently through the cottonwoods and the scent of sage was delicate in the air. I know she was not there in her body but her spirit was there with me. Physical death cannot possibly erase the spirit that lives in all things and certainly cannot erase my mother from my heart.
Jodi, how lucky you and your mom are to still have each other.
It feels like the UK has been in party mode since last year’s royal wedding. We’ve had the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee and are now in the middle of the London 2012 Olympics. Even hardened stoics such as myself have dipped our toes into the warm and happy place that London is this summer. Bunting flutters from balconies, shops display patriotic wares, and some crazy souls are sporting union jack face paints. The deep stillness of an August night is pierced by fireworks, laughter, and music. England laughs in the face of recession and parties hard.
I guess you could say my 12 bday was like a sweet 16. All my school friends and family came over for pizza and cake. It was a blast all of the kids were able to share the couch and being the bday girl i controlled the remote. It was also great because my aunt for once couldnt get a hold of the remote. Ugh no matter whose house she wass in she would try to control the tv. My best friends mom and aunt accidently got me the same shirt. It was funny to open the same thing twice. Then all of us kids went and played at the park. It might not have been an exgravant party but it was a great day.