Every few years I get the mad hatter idea of throwing a party. Usually it goes okay. Sometimes it doesn't.* And every once in awhile there's an evening that's just so much fun it leaves me smiling for days. Saturday night was one of those kinds of evenings: full of such good friends, such delicious food and drink, such an amazing and patient boyfriend, and at about 10 o'clock a glance at the door to see my brother, whom I had forgotten had a conference in DC last week, standing there in the doorway grinning, 6-pack in hand, saying, "I heard there was a party..."
This morning a patron came up to the reserves desk, took one look at me, and said, "Wow, it's not every Monday you see anyone smiling." Well, it's not every Monday that's the eve of turning another year older and yet also the eve of a year that's already proving to be so great. (Also we are going on vacation in four days. That never hurts. And also, there will be dinner at Gennaro tonight and dinner at Company tomorrow, both meals with dear friends. That never hurts, either. And so the smiling continues.)
*Once, there was almost fisticuffs. Seriously. A conservative Republican and a bullheaded Liberal, after hours of drinking, mere months after GWB's re-election. It was not a fun evening, to put it mildly.