The Party

There's this certain feeling I get when I'm driving home. It's like a mental deep breath. And I'm there, in that place where the ocean licks the rocks, and tractors set the pace of traffic.

Saturday morning started early. I headed to the gym. I was going to need energy for the day ahead. Saturday was our belated Bachelorette party for the one, and only Hollywood. It was also to be her going away party. Some years ago a nice guy named Mike came along and they fit so perfectly. And now he's in the Army. And they're moving to Texas. And a little piece of my childhood is going with Hollywood. In her suitcase. And I hope she unpacks me when she gets there. I'd like a nice spot on the mantle so I can watch over her. Not that she needs it. No, in fact, she's embraced the changes like champ. With a laugh and a lot of excitement. Scorpions be damned.

So, Saturday. I don't believe I own enough vocabulary words to define the 12 hour party that we were. We started with a Mother/Daughter brunch at Smokey Joes. During the decorating, a woman in a back booth continuously shot us dirty looks, at one point telling the waitress that she could barely get her attention with "all of this (gestures wildly at the tablecloth and leis) going on." Some people are so content in their misery. We went on with our decorating and soon Hollywood walked in. There were hugs all around, and the mimosas flowed. Old stories were traded. We grew up together. These four girls and I. These mothers watched us flourish together and apart. And there we were. History in the present. All back together for a celebration. And then came the cake. You must understand that none of us is what I'd call traditional. And so the cake (a glorious 33 cupcake creation of orange, green, and white) read: "Hope everything's bigger in Texas (except your drinking problem)." And it's a joke and we share it and laugh and cake is handed out and icing is just the best creation.

We take a few pictures and say goodbye to the Mom's and head out to get a trolley schedule. And here is where I will pause to tell you that this trolley is my new favorite thing. It's an old timey trolley that runs a circuit to all the waterfront bars your heart could desire. It's 25cents per ride. You can drink on the trolley. The music is loud, and impromptu karaoke is the only agenda while riding. So we met a man in a lime green shirt who just couldn't keep that shirt on. We met families with sweet, sleepy children. We met young girls and old men. We met, and met, and met. And we drank. Oh boy.

And see, there's this pair of dice. When you roll them they say things like "Dance with a tall guy" or "Hug a nerdy guy" and so on. So we rolled. And when Kristin's turn came it said "Kiss a hottie". And so she found one. And then, um, his girlfriend found them and she wasn't too happy with that situation. So there was that.

There was a walk over a short bridge. There was roadside crab dip eating. There was hitchhiking. There were reunions with everyone we went to high school with. And the bartenders at Skippers were sisters I used to babysit. How strange is that? I changed their diapers, now they're serving me beer.

There was peach moonshine. Some guy had a boat and free beer. We were thirsty. Then a mason jar came out. And some sweet, orange liquid flowed. Honestly? It was really good, and probably a bad idea, but my life has been really good and filled with bad ideas. So it's fine.

At some point during the night we lost sunglasses, a camera, the custom made beer coozies, and chapsticks. But as I think about it, it may be one of the last times we're all together like this. And the pictures are what I have right now, well they tell the story of 5 lifetimes, that ebb and flow like the rivers and bay we spent the night beside.

The party was an all day affair. It was hot and sunny and so freaking fun I want to do it again. I just need a few weeks to rest first.

And there's so much more to say, but I have to get to work. 8 days left.