It's My Party

The headline on the invitation was different for each:

We thought two years at USC Film School would last forever. Oops.

Los Angeles: A nice place to visit, but you wouldn't want to live there. (Actually, living here has been okay so far.)

But the contents of the invitation were the same.

Everyone from Northern California RSVPed, whether negative or positive. No one from the Film School RSVPed.

I said, Were these people raised in barns? I need a count, dammit, I've hired a fucking caterer!

I have no idea how many people are coming tonight. 20? 200?

Today I spent looking for luminaries, which are waxy paper bags with designs cut into them--you put candles inside and use them as decoration at night.

No one had them.

Well, not no one--one shop had "luau" themed luminaries in garish pink and green. I wanted simple, decorative luminaries...I ended up with the luau ones because after the first 6 shops I said, Enough.

I know I've seen them plenty of places. Why do no party shops have them?

So, the party turned out okay.

Lots of people turned up from Northern California and we were thrilled to see all of them. I won't list them all because I'll forget. A bunch of people showed up from USC, plus friends from the area.

Len even showed up, although I was absolutely mortified when Linda told him that I said all these terrible things about him on-line. Darin said, "More accurate would be telling him that you worship the ground he walks on," which is true. Linda said later that he knows that that was party talk, but still.

The caterers from Connolly's in West Hollywood did a fantastic job, with shrimp salad on corn muffins and pecan brie and ham on potato muffins and smoked salmon and teeny brownies and Mexican wedding cookies and...

We had the main course munchies on the front deck, dessert in the dining room, and drinks in the backyard. I wanted people to migrate to the backyard, where the tables and chairs set up. Of course, did the weather cooperate? It did not. It was a very chilly evening--early May in Los Angeles! But people sat out there anyhow.

The Northern California people tended to stick together, as did the USC people (there was quite a coterie around Len, which probably flattered him immensely), but there was some interplay and everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves, dammit. It was a pretty good party, and I'm glad we had it.

The main problem when you're the hostess of a party like this is you don't get a chance to talk to anyone. I don't think I had a conversation that lasted more than 5 minutes--someone was always arriving, leaving, or being shown the house. I was asked to rescue Len from the clutches of Bernice (by the time I got there, he had escaped unscathed), to describe "what I'm going to do now" (other than scowl at that question, you mean?), and to introduce people to one another.

It's nice being the hostess of a party like this, though, because everybody has to talk to you.

The only problem (trust Diane to focus on the problems) is that half the people who said they were coming didn't come. Which meant that the caterers had brought way too much food, which is now stacked into our refrigerator. There are worse things that eating smoked salmon for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but still.

The next invitation I send out--not that I am planning to host a party again, ever--I will put the RSVP in BIG, BOLD LETTERS so that maybe people will catch a clue.

And I won't invite college students.

(I'm really glad that Darin doesn't get angry when presented with a bill for catering for twice as many people as came. I'm upset enough for the two of us.)

Lies, Damn Lies, and Statistics

5.3 miles at 3 in the afternoon. While I could feel my legs working harder--I shaved 2 to 3 minutes off during the first 2/3 of the route--the return was way too difficult, uphill and against the wind. I think I prefer morning running.