It’s January 1st, 2021.
Everyone in the world is praying to their god to please, please, PLEASE make this year better. We are all making deals -- bargaining away our 2-drinks-a-day pandemic habits, our Amazon addictions, and general lack of personal hygiene for the chance to go to a restaurant without feeling like a criminal.
I’m listening to my pandemic playlist (listen to it on Spotify) which I made for a dear friend back in the Spring. She is a single friend, braving this pandemic alone. I worried about her back then, in the early months. I put encouraging songs on this playlist along with the depressing ones just in case she was in a dark place.
Now I envy her some days; a lot of days.
A bed to herself? A cable subscription she doesn’t have to share? Girl, you are my hero. You can have popcorn, dark chocolate, and gin for dinner every night. I used to do that every now and then when I was single. Now there are other people here, in my house, and they want dinner.
Sigh.
For the past week (Christmas was a week ago!) I’ve been chomping at the bit to throw a party. So yesterday I pretended I was actually throwing a party. I moved our dining room table into the living room, hung up some little disco-ball ornaments on our light fixture and set up chairs around the dance floor for our (imaginary) guests to rest in-between songs.
I’m a party thrower. It’s a gift. I can’t teach it to you; I was born with it. I came out of my mother’s womb knowing how to curate a party menu, playlist, guest list; how to relax and dance first so my guests will join in.
Four years ago I moved to Long Beach, CA and immediately started throwing parties. It’s how I make friends. “Come to my house. We will dance and drink a little too much, talk about sex and then we will be friends.”
Unfortunately my reputation DID NOT precede me. No one came to my parties. The people who already knew me here (they were few) came. They knew of the goodness contained in my cheese plates and craft cocktails. But people I had only known a few months did not come. Don’t ask me why, I’ll never know. I suppose it doesn’t radiate in my eyes that my purpose in life is to make you forget your troubles. Come on, get happy.
The last party we threw was exactly one year ago today. January 1, 2020. It was wonderful. Darla made 2 gourmet cakes (with GOLD DUST on them)! Jeff made cuban pork sandwiches which were gone before I even got to taste them. I made daiquiris and an horchata-espresso cordial for after dinner. The playlist was INCREDIBLE (playlist of pre-2000 dance tunes on Spotify).
None of our newer Long Beach friends stayed longer than 30 minutes. They all seemed surprised at the scope of the event. But old friends —people who have been to my parties before —braved the LA traffic. They came from the Hollywood Hills, Highland Park, even Santa Barbara and they stayed aaaaall day. Like you do at a good party.
This pandemic year, for the flipping of the calendar I’m still stuck at home alone. But I’m planning my next party in my mind. I think it will be for my birthday. And then, right after that party, I’ll have another party -- for last year’s birthday because I was robbed. We were all robbed!
My birthday is August 1st. If everyone reading this sends up a prayer to their goddess (or to Jesus Christ, if he still listens to Americans) that we’ll be able to party by August 1st I BELIEVE it will happen.
I believe we will dance together.
For now I’m dancing on my own. Last night I called our teeny dance party “Evacuate the Dancefloor.” I danced with my beautiful husband, our daughter (who would rather have been LITERALLY ANYWHERE ELSE), and our dog.
Today I’m drinking the gin I bought myself for Christmas. I’m not sad. I have so many friends in my head, dancing with me.
So get up, friend. Get off the couch and dance. We don’t know what this year will bring. But, now we know that we have never known what the years will bring. You may as well pump the jams and shake it with me!
love and hope,
Nonni
Gosh, I vaguely remember parties. But I’m drawn to fun so I’ll have no problem getting back in the saddle. Happy New Year!
OMW!