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Mid-January, Rain - January 13, 2012
Almost Midwinter - December 14, 2011
Saturday, Noonish, Sunny - November 05, 2011
October, White - October 31, 2011
October, 2011 - October 04, 2011


December 30, 2003

1:40 a.m.

Argument with an Angel

The Go to Bed angel is on my shoulder, and we're having a little argument right now, but I just asked for 15 more minutes while I write a little here. What a day. I know why I don't have parties now. If it hadn't been for my dear brother in law, I wouldn't have pulled it off -- he cooked, he set up, he served, he just took care of everyone while I was trying to manage this rather complicated soup recipe (soup -- I know you're thinking it's just a matter of throwing things into a pot--) and putting up the crepe paper and sorting out the helium balloons and the confetti and the tofu OHMYGODIFORGOTTHETOFU no, here it is in the fridge, thank God because it's ten of seven and there's no time to go back and get it. A total of five people bagged at the last minute, all of them sick. Later I was relieved to have only a dozen -- we had to eat in two rooms as it was, and every time I sat and talked to someone I felt guilty for not being in the next room talking to someone else. Will was among those absent; he said he could hardly get out of bed this morning (in case you're new to my inner life, this is my friend who has cardiomyopathy) (God I hate identifying him that way -- he's my friend who is an amazing bass player and over whom I went through about a year and a half of emotional hell, which is much better now; see previous entry entitled "Healing I and II" for story) -- okay, where was I? He said he was very disappointed because he was really looking forward to meeting my friends and my family. That touched me. One can't help wondering if he'll rally again from this phase, or if his world will pretty much be smaller now. One of my guests brought an amazing, huge birthday cake which was kind of a fruit trifle inside three layers of cake, with whipped cream frosting, and my bandmate put 13 candles on it (and someone said, "Now how many dog-years does each candle represent?"), and when I made my wish I wished that Will and I could have this year together. Just give us this good year to keep getting to know one another. Give us one good year, and I'll work on '05 next birthday.

Incidentally, the curried squash soup was FABULOUS!!! Holy Taj Mahal, it was perfect. I'm just about dislocating my arm, patting myself on the back. Probably very fattening because of the coconut milk ratio, but everyone had multiple servings, and most took some home. If it weren't 1:40 in the morning now, I'd...

God save me from the leftovers in my fridge. The spinach cream cheese dip, the birthday cake. I'd just started counting points again YESTERDAY, and I'm not even going to attempt to track today's debauchery.

So everyone loved everyone, and those who hadn't met before talked long, my clairvoyant healer friend and her husband, and my actress friend visiting from L.A., and my Indian neighbor across the hall who kept complimenting me on my hair (fresh dye job, you know) and my band and my sibs, and my other musician friend Steve who played us a 3-minute DVD animated film that he supplied music for, and it was so beautiful. It was a college project by someone he knows at RIT in film studies, and it was just about a little girl who gets up in the night when her parents think she's asleep and she colors butterflies on her bedroom wall; when they come to check on her she scrambles back into bed and pretends to be sleeping, but then they close the door again and the butterflies come to life! They're sparkly and ethereal and magical and they fly around her room and out the window. It was beautifully done and meticulously rendered -- especially the girl's facial expressions -- and Steve's guitar music was perfect for it.

After everyone had left and my sister and her husband had gone to bed, I stayed up cleaning for a while, rinsing empty wine bottles out, stoppering the others, divvying up leftovers, washing the dishes in the sink. I had a little treasure box of those gold foil-covered chocolate coins, and there were a lot left, so I hid a number of them all over the downstairs so they'll be finding them for weeks to come. I carefully cleaned all the metallic confetti off the table cloth (I picked up every damn tiny star, because I'd already gotten emotionally attached to them), and took down the crepe paper. Then I rounded up the helium balloons ("Happy Birthday!" "Happy New Year!"), tied them together and stuffed them back into the little Honda along with the Bag o' Party Detritus, and motored home around 1:00am listening to Girlyman on CD.

The balloons are now all over my apartment, dancing on the ceiling; the food is in the fridge, makeup has been removed (no one told me that I laughed so much that ALL my mascara ended up under my eyes), and I have rehearsal tomorrow... rather, today. I guess, since my real birth date was two weeks ago, and tomorrow (Wed.) is the last day of the year, that my birthday month is officially over. It's not without mixed feelings that I let it go. Other stuff I didn't even write about, but it'll have to wait. The Go to Bed angel will brook no more resistance.


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