I am incapable of really enjoying my own parties, I think. I guess that’s makes some sense – I’m busy, there’s stuff to do, I’m always sure that no one is having nearly as good a time as I want them to – but I just keep throwing parties anyway. And I like hosting. I just don’t enjoy it.
To backtrack a bit: Friday I had a stuffed-up head and a serious urge to take to my bed, but instead we went to a Giants game. It was Korean heritage night, our friend brought us Korean flags to wave, and the weather was even warm….ish.
I only made it to the seventh inning before begging Mike to take me home to rest, but it was our good fortune to get picked up by a stretch limo after searching fruitlessly for a free cab. It was a super 80’s limo, dented and dinged, with upholstery that I tried to touch as little as possible. For the price of a cab ride we got a circuitous tour of the city, and when I got out to pay, the driver had a tiny fluffy white dog sitting on his lap. So that was good.
We had our housewarming on Saturday. It was an interesting crowd – lots of good friends showed up, but many couldn’t make it because it was Pride weekend. In their stead came a whole lot of people I didn’t really know. And it was fun! Well, I mean, through my frenzy and chugging of red wine, it looked like everyone else was having fun. One guy wrote us afterward to say it was the best housewarming he’d ever been to! So that was gratifying.
Also, I made some kickass food (a spicy slaw and a cool slaw, potato salad, my mom’s cucumber salad) and the lady and gent on meatstuffs duty served me an absolutely stellar burger.
My red wine-sparkling lemonade cocktail (called Tinto de Verano) was an unlikely hit – or maybe I just drank it all myself – and, of course, we finished the keg of homebrew amber ale. We got the firepit going when the fog rolled in, and I even fought through my headcold to make it out to another party later in the evening.
Sunday we did a ton of work in our garden – a gardenwarming of sorts. Mike got bit by a rose bush,
but it was worth it. For me, at least. It turns out I love weeding. It’s so satisfying to clear an area of little grasses and evil snails, and then – soon – we put in all our veggies and flowers. And then, oh man, THEN I will throw parties where I relax, because I will refuse to leave my garden. You will see me waving goodbye to my guests from my tent staked near the rose bushes, grabbing fistfuls of herbs to smell them and refusing to head to my bed, even though it is only 100 feet away.