nuttin but fun

Friday night King and I hosted a costume party to ring in 40 (as someone else). He was a retired, now-living-at-the-beach New Yorker named "Mel" complete with black knee socks, sandals, a Hawaiian shirt halfway buttoned, a sun hat and opaque white sunscreen on his nose. All he was missing was a gold necklace with an Italian horn charm.
I was the Baroness d'Antiquity (aka Lipoma Dutchess) and donned a powdered wig, pearls, and period costume.

Many of the people we invited ran into babysitter problems, which makes me sad, because it was truly a fun night and we missed their presence. Among those who were able to make it: The scariest woman in the world (I'll give you three guesses), a purple-headed witch, a 1920's flapper, the Count and Countess Dracula, a Geisha, a dirty old man (I'll leave it at that), a pregnant woman and the mailman that made her that way, a soccer mom and dad, a pirate and his wench, Bat Girl and a harried, pregnant, cigar-smokin' housewife with a baby attached to "her" chest, Shaggy and Velma, Fred and Wilma Flintstone, a ball-and-chain wife and her husband who came as "chicken, cord on blue", Mona Lisa and Leonardo da Vinci, "Dumb Ass and Smart Ass" (donkey t-shirts with Smarties/Dum-Dum candy glued to them), a gypsy and her friend (who came with her because her husband was at home with a sick kid), and finally, a "man who was dressed just like our friend Terry".


Several of our friends brought us wine (yum!) and my friend with the Mona Lisa smile brought me a tiara to wear in my new laundry room.

It was the first time we had hosted a party in our newly-landscaped back yard. I always worry a little that people won't have fun and will want to go home early and will "have something else going on" the next time we invite them over. I think this taps into feelings of inadequacy that are left over from me at a younger age. Hopefully, now that I am nearly a week into being fourty, I will be able to discard those thoughts and sally forth into this new era.