Its My Party and I'll Cry if I Want To!

If you are one of my inexplicably growing amount of daily readers you know that Saturday was my birthday. (and if you've wandered here by accident looking for, oh I don't know, an intelligently written essay on the merits of thermonuclear powered mass transit vs open air solar powered vehicles then boy are you lost, but maybe you should stay and read a bit, since you are obviously much too serious)

The day included the spa (a topic already covered) and a birthday party (delightfully new territory). The party's events included a woman in dire need of knee surgery standing on a folding chair to hang up paper streamers on my patio in the wind, the baking of a frightfully pink, but strangely delicious strawberry cake made by someone who has never even baked a brownie, not one but two blood stains on the concrete of my patio, grown ups singing karaoke, kids screaming about wanting to sing karoake, margaritas made by me without all that pesky measuring, and a broken toe! (There were also some amazing gifts that made me cry for all the right reasons, and friends and family and food to die for although fortunately no one did)

I'm going to call my gimpy friend Matilda, not because I'm trying to protect her, but because she would probably want royalties or billing above the title for being used herein. Matilda is a great friend. She needs surgery, in fact is having surgery in a week, and yet when I got home there she stood, her legs shaking while trying desperately to balance on one of the wimpiest folding chairs that have ever been mass produced. Since Maltilda yelled at me that it was my party and I wasn't going to hang up my own darn (stronger words may have been used, but I want to keep my PG-13 rating) decorations I very meekly stood by and handed her strips of tape. I didn't tell her but I was waiting for her to fall. I figured I could break her fall with my body since I don't seem to have any sharp edges anymore to hurt anybody when they land on me. Although she didn't fall, she did apparently have a brain cramp and hopped down off the chair like she was 18 and hopping a fence after illegally skinny dipping in the neighbor's pool. This caused her knee to collapse which caused lots of pain and strange facial contortions. An ice pack was quickly fetched.

All the while, in the house Lee was masterfully handling the worlds pinkest cake. Cotton Candy pink, Hello Kitty pink. Whichever, it was really, really pink. Sydney picked it because Mommy LOVES STRAWBERRY! Mommy loves chocolate. Sydney loves pink. But he mixed and he baked and he frosted and then he stuck the cake in the freezer. Huh? Apparently it was part of the MASTER PLAN (please read that in a loud masculine voice inside your head) that involved my pink and frothy cake being placed inside the dead body freezer in the garage two hours before the party. But, he even wrote on the cake (with Pepto colored icing) AND remembered candles! He is quite the guy!

In the middle of the guest arrivals, during a heated conversation, I decided that one of my metal dining room chairs would be better off if it was two feet from where it was so I picked it up, took a step and in the middle of a sentence, apparently to vehemently drive home my point, I slammed the chair down with feeling. Onto my toe. Which broke. An ice pack was fetched.

Outside the kids were playing a game that I was told (much, much, much later) involved one five year old laying on the ground, being a "bridge" while all the other five year olds tromped across them. Somehow in the midst of this incredibly safe and well thought out game, Sydney trampled across the the "bridge's" nose, squashing it. She said it was the bridge's fault for not being a good bridge. Uh huh. Learn to pass that buck early Sydney, its a skill that will come in handy in your later life, as a lawyer. Anyway, there was blood staining not only my patio, but both Sydney's and the victim's beautiful pink dresses. (Yes, more pink) And at this point I'm running dangerously low on ice packs.

But poorly measured margaritas, a cooler full of beer, sticky pink and delicious cake made everyone feel better. Fortunately, since we had come to the end of my ice packs, no one else got hurt. Some neighbor dogs may argue about that in relation to our karaoke but since I have to listen to them howl off key every time an siren goes by, it did them good to listen to me for once.