Bad, bad conversation about why I need a lawyer and can't depend on the Boy's goodwill (because it's gotten me so far already). Fuck it. I want to talk about the party.
So, despite the fact that I spent the day brooding over the idea that this could be the last party I ever throw in this house, and despite the fact that I was heavy with anxiety and inadequacy...it was a pretty damn good time. Once again I put out the call and it was resoundingly answered by knitters, partners of knitters, knitters with kids, former knitters with kids, spouses of former knitters with kids...and Dirk. With his mom. And because no party is complete without my wacky family, there were also my parents, my grandparents, my brother and my brother's
booty call date. It was a loud, hot, yarny good time. The kids ate sugar, ran around and tried their best to make the house explode; and the adults buffered it all.
My favourite memories are all Blake. His excited reaction to all presents, his unprompted "thank you"s, his loud running about with K8 & Hestia, his quieter play with Clara, his insistence on answering the doorbell each and every time, and his attempt to touch the birthday flame. I also tremendously enjoyed Dirk's eleventh-hour arrival, which made me wish for a fatted calf.
It's funny: now that it's over I can forget the crushing sadness & the fluttery panic, and remember how good it was to see my little friends and my big friends having a blast in my living room.
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Don't make me send out the Blake. He doesn't listen to *anyone.*