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copyright ©1999-2003 |
So Thursday night, Asher and I
pull out the futon, re-attach the door, and turn our home office into a
temporary guest bedroom for the next three days. Pull out the sheets,
the extra pillows, some towels; bake up a batch of chocolate chip
cookies; get things ready for them so they’ll feel at home. We meet up
at a Scene Creamers show – Spencer’s spent the first few nights of
his stay, before Lisa arrived into town, with our friend Barrett,
who’s been nice enough to do airport duty and take Spencer to pick her
up earlier that evening. When the four of us return to our little pink
house sometime around midnight, it’s late, especially since they’re
still on East Coast time. But we can’t resist staying up just a bit
later nonetheless, half the cookies disappearing as we chat about
Spencer’s impending defense, their upcoming wedding, the party that
Asher and I are throwing for Spencer the next evening, the wedding
shower that our friend Eileen is organizing on Saturday afternoon. We
talk and eat and talk some more, until it’s well past time to go to
sleep, and we finally remember that Spencer, in particular, needs to get
some rest. They’re still asleep when
Asher leaves for school the next morning, and since my office is now
their bedroom, I take the time to get some errands done for the day.
When I get back later, there’s giggling in the kitchen and the sound
of water being turned off – excellent housemates that they are, the
dishes have been washed and are sitting out to dry. They’ve just
finished breakfast, but we stand around the kitchen and gab some more,
till I look at the clock and realize half our morning’s gone already,
and though I can’t remember what we talked so long about, I’m happy
for the distraction: it’s been so much more enjoyable that sitting
alone at my computer doing work. Spencer’s talk that day goes
marvelously, and then it’s time to get ready for the party. It’s
astounding how much smoother party prep goes when you have extra bodies
available to help move out furniture to make room for dancing, chop
piles of crudités, squeeze fresh lemons for cocktails, monitor the
hors-d-oeuvres in the oven, set up bar outside. But in just a couple of hours,
we’ve managed to transform the house and patio into a groovy place to
drink, eat, lounge and dance the night away – and pulled together our
costumes to boot. It’s a creative fancy dress/thrift store formal
party, and the four of us can’t help but stand around admiring each
other: we look swanked out, spiffed-up, and all-around fabulous. We take
pictures galore to prove it, and shake up the first batch of lemon drops
for the evening, just as the first guests begin to spill in, and the
celebration begins.
---------------------------> lounge . nourish . host . laze . home. |
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